


Propinquity Theory

by ButterflyApocalypse



Category: DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: (omg they were roommates), (sorry y’all it turned into a mission fic), Befriending drunk girls, Bullying Tim to show affection, But the important part is THEY WERE ROOMMATES, College, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne’s Super Secret Diary, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dick thinks it’s hilarious, Drugs, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Guy worries he’s being homophobic turns out he’s in love, Homophobia (or is it??), Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealous Damian Wayne, Jealousy, Jon is a college freshman here to live his Best Gay Life, Kitten raising, M/M, Mission Fic, Mutual Pining, Petty Damian Wayne, Pining, Pining Damian Wayne, Roommates, Sky doesn’t deserve any of this, The DamiJon RomCom, Tim is just happy to feel included, Warnings for the mission:, We’re not really sure what Damian is doing, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyApocalypse/pseuds/ButterflyApocalypse
Summary: Damian scowled. “Why are you laughing?” he demanded. “It’s a reasonable conclusion!”This just made Dick double over in laughter again. He managed to get a hold of himself enough to place a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’re not homophobic.”Damian’s scowl deepened. “Yes I am!”(Inspired by"Straight guy worries he's being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes he's fallen in love with him")
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 228





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! This is my first DC fic ever!! I had to take a break from DC for a long time because of extremely unfortunate circumstances but I'm BACK, BABYYYY! And super (haha, geddit? _Super?_ ) happy to be back!  
> The Super Sons give me so much serotonin and I just want them to be in love.  
> If you haven't read [this article](https://www.gaystarnews.com/article/straight-guy-worries-hes-homophobic-gay-roommate-ends-falling-love/), do yourself a favor and READ IT!! I think about it several times a month.  
> I've wanted to do a DamiJon/JonDami roommates fic for such a long time, and I would be remiss if I didn't credit [another DamiJon roommates fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512182) that I read a long while ago before I decided I wanted to write my own.  
> I hope it's as fun to read as it was to write!!! :D

‘Homophobic’ was not a word Damian had ever thought to ascribe to himself. Sure, he thought Drake was a waste of space, but that had  _ nothing  _ to do with the fact that he dated boys sometimes (it was everything else about him). But here he was sat, feeling his stomach turn while Jon chatted endlessly about the prospect of meeting and/or dating ‘actual college boys’ while he floated around their apartment, unpacking boxes into the previously unoccupied second bedroom. 

“—and the  _ parties! _ I’ve never been to an actual party before. Not that I haven’t been allowed, but when your dad’s, you know, the idea of disappointing him hits hard.” 

“Parties are overrated. Don’t bother,” Damian put in flatly.

Jon rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn’t bother responding. “Do you think I’ll have a meet-cute freshman year fling?” 

“No.” Damian caught a pair of socks that fell from the heaping pile of clothes Jon was carrying to his room and tossed it back on. “College boys are shit, don’t talk to them.” 

“Hey,  _ I’m _ a college boy,” Jon protested. 

Damian cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, and?” 

Jon made a wounded noise. “You’re mean and I don’t know why I love you.”

“Gross,” Damian said, and found he meant it. His stomach turned at the words. Why did Jon feel the need to say things like that?

Jon’s mouth quirked downwards and he continued unpacking in silence. 

_ Journal Entry:  _

_ J has moved in. He seems excited for the prospect of college. I warned him that he would soon be disillusioned and to keep his expectations low, but naturally, as has been our relationship since its conception, he refused to heed my advice. In fact, J has elected to attend a party (truly inadvisable, especially considering J’s heightened senses). I can only hope he is not too worn out for a patrol after the fact. I suspect he will overcome this lapse in judgement (he is far too prone to excitement) and we will soon be able to take full advantage of this living arrangement. Now is a time we can truly hone our skills and our partnership. I look forward to future progress— _

Damian had taken to keeping a journal. He found it cleared his mind after a long day and kept him from getting wound up about banal issues; seeing anything in writing made it easier to distance himself from it. In addition, it was just good record keeping. This evening, he was interrupted by Jon knocking uselessly against the doorframe of the open door. 

“Hey, D,” he greeted. 

“Hello.” Damian didn’t look up from his journal, hoping to be left in peace, at least until he finished. 

No such luck. 

“How do I look?” Jon asked, giving a twirl as a joke. “I’m going to my  _ very first _ party tonight, and I wanna make a good impression.” 

He was certainly going to make  _ an _ impression, though Damian wasn’t sure he’d call it ‘good.’ Jon was clad in a pair of dark wash skinny jeans so tight, they put half the Justice League’s spandex to shame. They served to emphasize the length and shape of his legs, which should have made him look gangly or disproportionate, but oddly didn’t. The jeans, and subsequently his legs, were definitely the star of the look, but he’d clearly put effort into choosing the soft-looking blue muscle tank that showed off his toned shoulders and arms. Thankfully, he’d switched his red trainers for a smart pair of brown Doc Martens which saved the outfit from looking like he couldn’t decide if he was going to the gym or the catwalk. 

Damian looked away dismissively. “You look like you’re going to get your ass grabbed.”

“Hey!” Jon sputtered, blushing. “I mean… that wouldn’t be  _ so  _ bad…”

Damian’s eyes snapped up. “Jon, no. Yes it would.”

Jon shrugged noncommittally, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Don’t let anyone grab your butt. If they do, break their hand,” Damian ordered, standing up. 

“I’m not going to do that!” Jon laughed. 

Damian reached up to hold Jon’s face between his hands, keeping him still. “If anyone touches you, you tell  _ me _ and  _ I’ll _ break their hands.” 

Jon’s expression softened into a genuine smile (made awkward by Damian’s hands squishing his cheeks). “I believe you,” he said. 

Damian kept his gaze boring into Jon’s for a moment longer before releasing him. He sighed. “Alright. Be safe.” 

“You could come with me,” Jon offered. He stuck his tongue out. “Be my little guard dog!”

“Shut up!” Damian bristled. “You’re not helpless, you’re just dumb, and I cannot protect you from that.” 

“Fair enough!” Jon agreed easily, floating towards the door. “I’m gonna go.”

“Hey!” Damian called after him. “You look good.” 

Jon’s face bloomed into a delighted grin. “It’s the party pants, isn’t it? I bought these junior year, but I haven’t had anywhere to wear them until now. I started doing my own laundry to hide them from my mom—”

“Leave!” Damian mimed throwing something at him. 

Jon dodged dramatically and blew a kiss in Damian’s direction (which he dodged in kind). 

“Bye, D! Don’t wait for me! I might find true love tonight and run off—”

“Good riddance,” Damian quipped. The sound of Jon’s laughter disappeared behind the sound of the door closing. 

Damian heaved an exasperated sigh. As much as he’d said it to bother Jon, he genuinely was worried guys were going to take advantage of him. With his big, round, blue eyes, charming grin, and mess of loosely curly hair, he was practically wearing a sign that said ‘I am naïve!’ It made Damian angry to think about how many guys were probably going to look at him like a piece of meat tonight. It was disgusting. It was nearly enough to make him chase Jon down and accept his invitation to accompany him. But no, that was preposterous. Jon was half-Kyrptonian, surely if he truly got himself into trouble, he would get himself out. And in any case,  _ somebody _ had to keep the city safe, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Jon tonight. 

Damian situated himself in front of his monitor and cracked his knuckles. Nothing like some good old fashioned crime fighting to get his mind off his roommate’s backside, and the grabbing thereof. 

Damian awoke to the sound of Jon’s tuneless humming. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he was surprised to find a blanket falling off his shoulders. He was still in front of his computer, but the screen had long gone black. Squinting at the clock, he saw that it was past three o’clock in the morning. He craned his neck around to see Jon floating in the kitchen. He was pulling frozen waffles out of the box, thawing them with a quick zap of heat vision, and stuffing them into his mouth plain. Damian rolled his eyes. His best friend sure was embracing the ‘college kid’ lifestyle. 

“Dinner of champions,” Damian commented, surprised at how groggy his voice sounded. 

“Damian!” Jon presumably exclaimed (it was difficult to tell through his mouthful of waffle). He hastily shoved the box back into the freezer and zipped to his side. “The party was  _ awesome!” _

Damian grimaced, pushing Jon away from him. “You reek of weed.” 

Jon lifted the front of his shirt to his nose. “Really? Is  _ that _ what that smell is? Huh! Now I know what weed smells like!” 

“Congratulations,” Damian said dryly. “Please take a shower.” 

“Sure, but first I gotta tell you about the party!” Jon began.

“Truly, you don’t.”

Jon ignored him, continuing, “People  _ loved _ me. They talked to me and danced with me—don’t worry, nobody touched my butt, the goods are safe—and look!” He held out his arms which were covered in scribbled numbers. “The coolest thing happens when you ask guys for their numbers:  _ they give you their numbers.” _

Damian felt a twinge of annoyance. He didn’t have a modicum of trust for any of these guys. He could just picture them, dancing on Jon, getting their marijuana-smell in his hair and clothes, grabbing his arms to claim some skin to write their numbers… As soon as Jon texted any of them, he was sure he’d be flooded with unsolicited pictures of their disease-ridden penises. 

“Wash those off while you’re at it,” Damian said. 

“Aw, come on, Dami,” Jon whined. “I swear most of the guys weren’t creeps. In fact, this one guy, Sky, he—”

“Jon, I really do not care,” Damian cut him off. The twinge had built into a simmering rage. 

Jon’s shoulders slumped and he pouted. “Is this about us not going on any patrols or missions this week? Because I’m really sorry, I’ll try to do better, it’s just I’m still getting used to my classes, and then I got invited to the party and I  _ really _ didn’t want to say no—” 

“No,” Damian sighed. “That’s not it.”

“Oh,” said Jon. “Then what is it?”

Damian didn’t answer, largely because he was uncertain himself.

_ Journal Entry: _

_ Three. That is the number of missions, including patrols, that J and I have taken since J’s arrival. I would be inclined to be more sympathetic towards J were he missing missions to do homework or study (I am a huge proponent of anything that increases J’s intelligence), but as he is consistently choosing  _ parties _ over his work, I cannot garner anything but irritation for him. In fact, I do suspect the three missions we went on coincided with the due dates of International Affairs essays. He did make me promise not to tell his parents of his proclivities, and I did unfortunately agree. I regret this now, since I realize I could have used this as leverage to ensure more missions. Alas, I am a man of my word, so I have no choice but to find another avenue to force J into more missions. I do not mind solo work, as I have had to do recently, but it does rather defeat the purpose of having a partner.  _

Jon’s familiar laughter became audible, as the door swung open and Jon barreled into the apartment, followed by a lanky bleach-blond guy. 

“—And it was  _ clearly _ not tapioca!” Jon was finishing. He caught sight of Damian and froze. “Oh! Dami, hey, I thought you were on a— I thought you were out tonight.”

Damian deliberately ignored Jon’s ‘guest.’ “Evidently not.” 

“Well I got that  _ now,” _ Jon huffed. He gestured to the guy next to him. “This is, um.”

Bleach-blond stepped forward. “I’m Samuel,” he greeted. Then he chuckled, “Which we thought was funny because that’s Jon’s—”

“It’s his middle name, yes.” Damian wrinkled his nose when he caught whiff of ‘Samuel’s pungent cheap cologne. He gave him a calm, deliberate once-over. “If you were hoping to fuck my roommate tonight, I must inform you that you’re out of luck.” 

‘Samuel’s eyes went wide and Jon’s face flooded red. 

“Damian!” Jon gasped, scandalized. 

“That’s not— I didn’t— well, I mean—” ‘Samuel’ sputtered. 

Jon grabbed Samuel’s sleeve. “Just ignore him, he’s a jerk.” 

“Okay.” Samuel nodded uncertainly, though his gaze kept flicking back towards Damian. “Uh… my place then?” 

“Sounds wonderful,” Jon replied pointedly. 

_ “Sounds _ like something someone who  _ doesn’t _ have unfinished calculus homework would do,” Domain said with a nonchalant yawn. 

Jon’s face screwed up in frustration. “Hey! I—I can finish it in the morning before class!” 

‘Samuel’ held his hands up in surrender and began to back towards the door. “Hey man, if you need to focus on school, don’t let me get in your way.” 

Jon groaned. “Yeah, I probably should do my work. But I’ll see you later?”

‘Samuel’ smiled gently (disgustingly). “Sure.” He began to lean in, presumably to kiss Jon, but froze when he glimpsed Damian’s glare. He cleared his throat, straightening. With an awkward wave, he slipped out of their apartment. 

When the sound of retreating footsteps faded, Jon wheeled around to face Damian. “Damian, what the  _ hell?” _

He tsked. “That’s a bad word, Jon.”

“Why did you  _ do _ that?”

Damian shrugged. “You have calc homework.” 

“No! I mean, why did you say the bit about the… the—” 

“The fucking?” Damian primly raised an eyebrow. 

Jon covered his face with his hands and nodded. 

“Because that’s what he wanted, you know,” said Damian. 

“No he didn’t!” Jon protested, face reddening again. “You don’t know that!” 

“Don’t I? He had his cologne applied quite liberally,” Damian pointed out. 

Jon scowled. “But that doesn’t mean he wanted to—  _ do it!” _

“And he had condoms in his back pocket.” Damian shrugged. 

“Oh.” Jon blinked. “Did he?”

Damian nodded. 

“Well, then,” Jon said. “At least he intended on using protection, then?” 

“Protection wouldn’t stop you from getting hurt,” Damian muttered. 

Jon’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Physically or emotionally?” 

“Well, both,” Damian said. “But my point is, protection or not doesn’t matter if it wasn’t what you wanted to do in the first place.” 

“How would you know I didn’t, uh, want to?” Jon challenged. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “First off, you can’t even say ‘fuck.’”

“I can say ‘have sex,’” Jon put in.

“Granted,” Damian agreed and went on, “Second, you didn’t think that’s what he intended, so clearly, you weren’t thinking about it.” 

Jon considered this. “What if I did want to have sex with him?”

“Then I would say ‘raise your standards,’” Damian said. 

Jon stifled a grin. “That’s so mean.” 

“And yet, you laugh.”

“I’m not laughing!” Jon giggled. 

A smirk played at Damian’s own mouth. “Do your homework, Jon.” 

Jon groaned. “Will you help me on it?” 

“It’s calc 1, Jon, what could you possibly need help with?” Damian teased. 

“Everything! I don’t even know what all this ‘tangent line’ and ‘limit’ business is,” Jon whined. 

Damian gave his best long-suffering sigh. “What are professors teaching these days? Get your textbook, I’ll help.” 

“Yay! Thanks Damian! I’ll consider this reparation for your behavior.” Jon sped off to his room. 

“Lucky me.” Despite himself, Damian shook his head fondly. 

“Hey, uh,” Superboy started over the comm. “Robin, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the other night.”

Robin rolled his eyes, aiming his grappling hook towards the next building.  _ “You _ want to apologize? I’m the asshole here.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” Superboy muttered into the still-live comm. “I’m being the bigger person.”

“If that’s a comment on you out-growing me again—”

Superboy laughed. “No. I mean, yeah you were a jerk, but I also shouldn’t have brought anyone over without asking.”

Robin felt the now-familiar irritation light in his gut. “It’s your life, I’m not your dad, you don’t need my permission.” 

“But you live there too. And I know you don’t like people— excluding me, of course— so I should ask to make sure you’re okay with guests before I bring them over. The only reason I brought Samuel over in the first place was because I thought you were on patrol,” Superboy explained. 

The irritation spiked, sharply.  _ How many people had Jon brought over before Samuel? _

“So  _ that’s _ why you’ve been conspicuously absent from so many missions?” Robin growled. 

The comms were silent. 

“... I’m sorry,” Superboy apologized softly. “I should have just told you, or just rescheduled with the guys. You work so hard, you don’t deserve to be stood-up like that.” 

Robin’s burning anger faded. That was among the more annoying things about his friendship with Jon: it was hard to stay angry at him. He just apologized so damn sincerely. 

“It’s fine,” Robin said gruffly. “I forgive you. Or whatever.” 

“I’m glad,” Superboy said, and Robin could  _ hear _ the stupid smile in his voice. “And anyway, it won’t be a problem anymore.”   
“No?” Robin queried, grimacing when he misjudged a landing. The urban college was an overall quiet area. Even downtown was like a nursery compared to the crime-ridden streets Damian was used to. Strictly speaking, constant patrols weren’t necessary for this city, but he used the area to practice riskier moves so that one day he could protect a city of his own. He wasn’t about to attempt anything as flashy as Grayson was apt to do, but there was no harm in adding some extra agility to his grappling skills. 

“No,” Superboy confirmed, flying closer. “I’m not gonna be just bringing guys over whenever.” 

“Good,” Robin said, pleased. He’d finally been disillusioned. 

“Yeah, I thought about it and decided that I’m just gonna pursue one guy,” Superboy went on. 

Robin’s stomach dropped. What ‘one guy’ was worth all of Jon’s attention? And in what way was this better? Jon could bail on any random guy he was hanging out with, but ‘one guy’ implied commitment. 

“I actually met him at that first party I went to, and I’ve run into him a couple of times since. I wasn’t sure if he was interested or not at first, but now I really think he is! And, ugh, Robin, he’s  _ so  _ gorgeous—”

“Superboy, the comms aren’t for chatting,” Robin reminded. “If it’s not about the mission, it can wait.”

“But Robin, there’s nothing going on,” Superboy protested in confusion. “And we’ve been chatting no problem so far.” 

“It could distract us into missing important details. And I thought I saw something suspicious,” Robin added, lying through his teeth. There was nothing suspicious in this city. But there hadn’t been any real reason to cut Superboy off like that and he was beginning to feel embarrassed by his outburst. The idea of hearing about Jon’s love life made him want to hurl, but he wasn’t sure how to say that in a way that wouldn’t make Jon do that pout he does. 

Superboy was immediately attentive. “What did you see, Robin?”

Robin’s head swiveled frantically, searching for anything he could conceivably label ‘suspicious’ without Jon suggesting he see a doctor (or a therapist). 

_ There! _ He saw a figure holding a large sack creeping away from a door. Huh, that really was suspicious. 

“By those apartments, nine o’clock,” Robin directed. 

“Got it,” Superboy confirmed, stealthily flying close to run recon. Robin launched himself to perch on an adjacent building and pulled out his binoculars.

The figure turned out to be a young man dressed in a hoodie. He glanced furtively around as he approached the door of the apartment unit. He reached into his large sack. Robin gripped a birdarang, prepared to knock whatever he pulled out from his hand. 

Over the comms, Superboy gasped. “That’s him! That’s him! Robin that’s Sky, that’s the guy I was talking about!” 

Robin’s heart pounded as adrenaline rushed through him. Was Jon’s ‘one guy’ a delinquent?

“Oh… my god…” Superboy whispered. 

“What? What is it?” Robin searched for Superboy in the sky. “Superboy?”

“Robin,  _ look!” _ he squealed.  _ Squealed! _

Robin snapped his binoculars back up so fast, he nearly poked his eyes. On the street below, ‘Sky’ had placed a parcel on the apartment’s door knob. The label on the parcel read ‘Charity Meals.’ 

Slowly lowering his binoculars, Robin cleared his throat. “He’s… leaving charity meals.” 

“And now he’s petting a stray dog!” Superboy cooed. 

Indeed he was. He was crouched down to the dog’s level, grinning when it planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. 

Superboy sighed dreamily. “I think I’m in love.”

Robin turned off his comm to gag. 

_ Journal Entry: _

_ J has miraculously recovered from his party-craze. I must admit, however, that I’m not certain his new vice is much of an improvement: J has acquired a boyfriend. For anonymity, I shall refer to the boyfriend as ‘S’ (and I would like to be clear that this stands for ‘Shitface’ and any letters it may or may not share with his name are coincidental). S is pre-med (planning to be a pediatrician) and spends his time outside of school working for a non-profit fighting food insecurity and homelessness. At first glance, it may seem that S is an outstandingly decent person, but I have a bad feeling about him. You know what type of person takes so many pains to seem like a good person? A bad person. My theory is that he is using this as a sort of camouflage. No matter how much J likes him, I do not trust S. _

_ In positive developments, J has regularly joined me on patrols.  _

“I know you don’t like Sky, but please hear me out on this,” said Jon. “You’ll like this.”

__ “What?” Damian responded, as flatly as possible to convey his displeasure at the topic of Sky. 

“He found a kitten. It was orphaned and dumped in a garbage can. He said it’s only like three days old and needs to be taken care of full time,” he said. 

“I’m supposed to ‘like’ this?” Damian asked. 

Jon shook his head in exasperation. “I think you’ll like that part where Sky has asked if you would like to take care of it.”

Damian sat up, interested. “Why did he ask that?”

“I told him how much you love animals,” Jon explained. “And Sky is busy with classes and work and volunteering… and me… but he doesn’t want to let just anyone take the kitten. So, uh, what do you say?”

Damian was already pulling on his boots. “Let’s go get it now.” 

Jon smiled, following Damian out the door. “Knew I could trust you.” 

The trip to Sky’s apartment was a short one with Jon leading. Sky answered the door and his face lit up when he saw Jon. 

“Hi Sky!” Jon greeted, wrapping his arms around him. Jon was tall, but Sky was taller still, so much so that he could rest his chin in Jon’s hair. 

“Hey, Jonny,” he greeted softly. Damian, in a monumental effort to be polite, resisted the urge to retch. “And hello, Damian. It’s nice to see you.”

Damian’s manners only extended so far, and he only grunted in reply. 

Jon pulled away. “We’re here to pick up the kitten.”

“Already?” Sky laughed. “That was quick.”

“Yeah, well, I told you he wouldn’t be able to resist,” Jon snickered. Sky laughed in response like they were sharing some inside joke. It made Damian’s skin crawl. 

Sky opened his door wider. “Come on in!” 

Jon wasted no time flouncing in. Damian paused a second to give Sky his customary threatening once-over. It hadn’t worked on him once yet, but Damian was not a quitter. He suspected that Sky was probably just stupidly secure in his looks or something. Sure, he was tall and built with a strong jaw shadowed by the slightest bit of stubble and friendly-looking dark eyes, and sure, the gray sweatpants he had on might be described as ‘flattering,’ but Damian wasn’t impressed. Or intimidated. 

“After you,” Sky said in a rumbly voice that grated on Damian’s ears. 

Damian stalked in after Jon. “Where’s the kitten?” he demanded. 

“She’s right over here.” Sky guided him to the corner of his room where there was a mass of blankets. Resting against a plush giraffe was a tiny white kitten. “Thank you so much for agreeing to take her. There was no way I was leaving her, but I can’t take care of her, and I’m allergic to cats.”

He might have said more, but Damian stopped paying attention, rapt on the kitten. 

_ Journal Entry: _

_ I have some amendments to make to previous entries. And perhaps some ‘crow to eat,’ as J says. From this point on, ‘S’ no longer stands for ‘shitface’ and now stands for a letter that may or may not be in S’s name.  _

_ Patrols postponed until further notice for kitten care (for anonymity, the kitten will be called ‘A’).  _

Damian looked up from feeding Audrey when he heard a camera go off. Jon stood in the doorway, holding up his phone. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he interrogated. 

Jon was fighting a smile. “I’m taking a picture.”

“Yes, but why?” 

Jon snorted. “You’re  _ shirtless _ and feeding a  _ kitten _ on your  _ belly. _ This is a precious event that has to be recorded for posterity.” 

“Delete it,” Damian ordered. Audrey pulled away from the bottle, spilling formula onto his skin, which he quickly cleaned with a paper towel. 

“Well, you see…” Jon trailed off. 

Damian glared at him. “What.”

“I already sent it to Dick,” Jon admitted. 

Damian would have bolted up except that would disturb Audrey who was yawning and falling into her post-food sleep. “Since when are you in contact with Grayson?”

Jon shrugged. “When he found out I was moving in with you, he asked me to send him updates and photos and gossip and whatnot. He keeps asking if you’re seeing anybody.” 

“Tt,” Damian tsked. 

Jon laughed. “Classic Dami.” 

“Shut up,” Damian said, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“Did you know you have an  _ awful _ tan line?” Jon commented, coming up beside him to brush a finger against Audrey’s tiny head. 

Damian looked down. Indeed, there was a stark demarcation where his workout tank normally sat against his skin. Damian shrugged. “You see, skin that isn’t exposed to the sun doesn’t need as much melanin to protect it,” he explained in his most patronizing tone. 

“Well I for sure wouldn’t know. My two options are ‘pale,’ or ‘pale with freckles,’” Jon pouted. 

Damian knew this. He laughed at Jon’s freckles when he returned from trips to space, but he had to admit that Jon wore them well. He just had a face that freckles belonged on. 

Damian returned Audrey to her incubator (the best money could buy). “Is this all a round-about way of requesting I work out shirtless more?” 

Jon held up his hands. “Hey, I am  _ always _ in favor of that, but I was just noticing. You usually wear a shirt.”

“Hm, and I should stop doing that?” Damian smirked. 

“Here, here!” Jon mimed raising a glass. Rolling his eyes, Damian joined him, clinking their imaginary glasses together. Jon began to chug his ‘drink’ while Damian looked on. Jon’s hair was getting long enough for full curls to form. He was smiling far too widely to conceivably be drinking anything, but Damian didn’t mention it. These were good moments. It was moments like these where he felt like a normal guy with a normal best friend like a normal person, opposed to a born-assassin-turned-hero living with his half-alien hero partner. That was a weird thing to be, but Jon was good at out-weirding even all that and Damian could forget about it in these moments.

Jon finished his imaginary drink and caught Damian’s stare. His goofy grin softened into a gentle smile. They stood in silence for several beats.

Damian started to feel itchy. Was this awkward? This was awkward, right? He looked away, clearing his throat. “Do you still want help on your International Affairs project? I have some readings that might help—”

“Oh, no, that’s okay.” Jon waved him off. “I’m gonna go over to Sky’s tonight to watch a movie he said would be great to do the project on.” 

Damian fought down the irritation he was still feeling whenever Jon talked about Sky. “You’re going over to his place a whole lot,” he said. 

Jon had set to gathering some of his notebooks into a backpack. “Huh? Yeah, I know he’s not your favorite person, so I don’t mind going to his apartment.” 

“You— I—” Damian started. “You can bring him here sometimes. If you want. Sometimes. Just ask first.” 

Jon’s face lit up. “Really? Are you sure?”

Damian grit his teeth. “Yeah. Like if he wants to see Audrey sometime or whatever.”

“Thanks D, you’re the best!” Jon wrapped him in a quick hug. Before he stepped out the door he called back. “Oh yeah, Dick says ‘i can’t believe i’m a grandmother,’ and also he wants you to text him.” 

“I don’t care what Grayson says! Don’t tell me!” Damian shoved his hands over his ears petulantly. Jon saluted and left. 

He stood staring at the closed door for longer than he cared to admit. Without Jon, the apartment suddenly felt far too empty and he felt confused. 

‘Grayson wants me to text him,’ Damian thought. He glanced at his phone laying face down. Was he really that desperate? 

He sighed, reaching for it. It was Grayson’s lucky day.

“Little D!” Dick greeted the moment Damian opened the door. He bowled him over in a rib crushing hug which Damian graciously tolerated. “Show me my grandchild.” 

“She’s sleeping,” Damian said, but led the way to the incubator. “And wouldn’t she be your niece?” 

Dick ignored him, peering into the glass. “She’s so small!” he gasped. “And  _ so _ cute.”

Damian felt his chest swell with pride. “Yes she is.” 

“What’s her name?” Dick asked without taking his eyes off the sleeping kitten. 

“Audrey,” Damian answered. 

“Audrey?” Dick repeated, surprised. “That’s… a good name. Who’s it after?”

Damian tsked. “Why would it be after anybody?”

Dick chuckled. “Look, Little D. Every time you’ve ever named something, it’s either after someone or Bat-blank.” 

“Like you’re any better!” Damian flushed. “You  _ started _ the bat-blank thing!”

“B did, actually,” Dick snorted. 

“But you thought it was cool!” Damian accused. 

Dick crossed his arms. “It  _ is _ cool.”

“It is cool,” Damian agreed. 

Dick stood there nodding for a moment. Then, “So who’s Audrey?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I have no clue, Jon came up with it.” 

“Ah, that explains it,” said Dick. “Speaking of, how is Jon?”

“You guys texting buddies or whatever now, are you not?” 

“Yeah, but he’s a Kent and says stuff like ‘peachy’ when I ask, and I’ve never heard that phrase used unironically, so I’m never sure if he means ‘I’m rootin’ tootin’’ or ‘I’m on the verge of death,’” Dick explained. “So I wanna hear from you: how is Jon?”

Damian coughed. “That’s… actually why I asked you here today.”

Dick looked horrified. “Oh my god, did he mean ‘I’m on the verge of death?!’”

“What? No! No,” he said. “He’s doing great. He’s super happy.” He paused. “He has a boyfriend.” 

Dick’s expression transformed into something cautious and curious. “I see.” He went to sit on Damian’s bed and steepled his fingers under his chin. “And is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes,” Damian answered curtly. The truth was, he wasn’t sure what there  _ was _ to talk about. Jon had a boyfriend. That was it. “He… has a boyfriend,” he repeated, trying to summon a next sentence. 

Dick nodded sagely. “What’s the boyfriend like?”

He wrinkled his nose. His first instinct was to say ‘terrible’ and ‘hideous’ and ‘creepy,’ but none of those were true. Sky was a great guy, he was attractive, and as far as Damian could tell, his intentions towards Jon were wholesome (save for the time Damian unfortunately had to bear witness to Sky making jokes about Jon helping him ‘study’ for his human A&P class). Ultimately, he just shrugged. “He’s good. Good for Jon.” 

“But you don’t like him,” Dick said knowingly. 

He scowled at him. What did he know? “No, I do not.” 

Dick hummed. “Why’s that?” 

And  _ there _ was the question. Damian didn’t  _ know _ why he didn’t like him! He didn’t like the hypothetical ass-grabbing party boys or Samuel because they were creeps and Jon was Damian’s young, naïve best friend and he didn’t want him being preyed upon. He’d felt protective. But with Sky, who was more absurdly, cartoonishly ‘good’ than Superman himself, Damian had no reason to feel protective over Jon. There was no reason for him to hate Sky, but the mere thought of him with Jon made Damian’s skin crawl. 

Maybe… it was because he was homophobic. 

That would make a lot of sense. It explained why he felt so grossed out when Sky did anything flirty towards Jon, it explained why he wanted to vomit when Jon talked about his relationship, it explained his revulsion when he imagined Sky kissing Jon. 

“I think it’s because I’m homophobic.” 

Dick’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “I beg your pardon?” 

The floodgates opened. “I said I think I am homophobic. Not on purpose. I don’t know why this is happening. I am trying to stop it, but I believe I hate Sky because he’s gay for Jon.” 

“Uh huh.” Dick blinked slowly, processing. “That’s quite the theory you’ve got cooking there, Little D.” 

Damian didn’t like his patronizing tone. He was a better detective than him! “It’s the only theory that makes sense,” he defended hotly. “Why else would I hate Sky? He’s not done anything untoward to Jon, he’s a great guy, and Jon likes him. The only thing I actually hate about him is that he’s dating Jon. And the only reason I would have to be  _ bothered _ by that is if I am homophobic.” 

Dick’s mouth began to twitch. It was clearly costing him a monumental effort not to laugh. A giggle escaped. 

“I’m sorry,” Dick wheezed, more laughter sputtering out. “I know this is a big thing for you,” he laughed. “And you’re doing great being emotionally vulnerable right now, and I shouldn’t la-ah-ha-HA—” he broke off into a veritable  _ guffaw. _

Damian scowled. “Why are you laughing?” he demanded. “It’s a reasonable conclusion!” 

This just made Dick double over in laughter again. He managed to get a hold of himself enough to place a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’re not homophobic.”

Damian’s scowl deepened. “Yes I am!” 

Dick shook his head. “Damian, like at least half our family is bi.  _ I’m  _ bi. You’re not homophobic.” 

“Maybe I’m simply not biphobic,” Damian suggested, though it sounded petulant even to his own ears. Grayson did present a good counter-argument. He’d never liked  _ anyone  _ his family had ever dated, regardless of gender. Perhaps it was the same with Jon. “Or maybe I dislike anyone dating people I care about.” 

Dick snapped his fingers. “Now  _ there’s _ a thought.” 

“But  _ why?” _ Damian asked, brow furrowed. He felt like a confused child, going to Dick for guidance. “Do I hate romance?” 

Dick snorted. “The sheer number of times I’ve watched  _ The Princess Bride  _ with you says ‘no.’”

“The romance is simply a background element! It’s full of action and adventure—” He broke off then he realized Grayson was laughing at him. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, Little D. To hell with Socratic irony, I’m going to give you a hint. Have you considered that you might be, hm, I don’t know… jealous?” 

“Jealous?” Damian repeated. No, he had not considered that. Why would he be jealous? “Jealous that Jon is in a relationship and I am not?”

Dick pressed his lips together. “Uh, sure, maybe that. Let’s talk about that. Do you feel jealous that Jon is in a relationship and you’re not?”

Damian thought about it. “No. I’ve been in several relationships before and—”

“And they ‘fail to live up to expectations,’ yep. You’ve said,” Dick teased. 

“Precisely. So why would I be jealous?”

Dick raised his eyebrows and remained silent. He was leaving Damian on his own for this one. So be it. 

Why would he be jealous, if that was the case? What was the common link between times he’s felt the irritation and anger? He felt bitter that Jon spent so much time with Sky. His anger flared when Jon talked about Sky when they were hanging out or going on patrol. He could hardly spend any time with his best friend without hearing about ‘Sky this’ and ‘Sky that’ and—

“I’m jealous of  _ Sky!” _ he exclaimed. 

Dick applauded wildly. “Yes!” he cheered. 

“He is  _ monopolizing _ Jon!” Damian continued. “I am his best friend. I deserve his time as well.” 

“I. Well. Hm,” Dick considered. “Close enough.”

“Close enough to what?” he asked.

Dick shrugged. “To what I was thinking. But that doesn’t matter, because you figured it out! Yay! What are you going to do about it?” 

Damian clenched his fist. “I’ll put the fear of god and Batman into Sky and demand he stop monopolizing Jon.” 

Dick blinked. “...No.” 

“Oh,” Damian said. “Then what should I do?”

“You should… talk…” Dick trailed off pointedly. “...To…?”

“I should talk,” Damian repeated. “To… Jon.” 

“I fully agree!” 

That did make sense. He should talk to Jon and ask him to hang out with Sky less. “But how do I ask him to stop spending time with Sky without sounding like an asshole?” he wondered aloud. 

“Lucky for you,” Dick chuckled, “Jon  _ knows  _ you’re an asshole and loves you anyway.”

Damian nodded. That did ease his mind. 

“And then maybe make it more about how _you_ want to see him _more_ instead of you wanting him to see _Sky_ _less,”_ Dick continued. “So he feels loved instead of like you hate his boyfriend.” 

Damian offered a small smile. “Thank you, Grayson.”

“Aww, of  _ course, _ Little D! Anything for you!” Dick beamed, opening his arms for a hug.

Damian turned away. “You already got a hug.” 

Dick pouted. “But I helped you! Don’t I deserve another?” 

“No,” Damian insisted stubbornly. His phone alarm went off. He sighed. “But I suppose you can help me feed Audrey.” 

Dick looked like a child on Christmas day. 

_ Journal Entry: _

_ I have confronted J about what I discussed with G. Taking G’s advice, I omitted as much mention of my disregard for his relationship with S as possible. J was receptive to, perhaps even  _ pleased  _ by, my concerns, even going as far as to cancel his evening plans with S. I am immensely satisfied with this result. We have come to an agreement that J will go on at least one patrol a week once Audrey is old enough to be left alone. If he cannot make it because of school work, he will prioritize the patrol over plans with S. He has also agreed to start bringing S to our apartment more instead of going to S’s every time. I feel optimistic about this arrangement.  _

“I’ve  _ missed  _ flying!” Superboy called into the night.

“That makes one of us,” Robin muttered, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground by Jon’s thankfully sure grip on him. They were headed across the bay to the nearby nature reserve. Apparently, Jon had caught wind of a series of assaults on campus. When he’d told Damian about the rumors, Damian had wondered why the campus or local police weren’t taking care of it. According to the students, the school was  _ lousy _ at actually dealing with things when they could be covered up instead. It was certainly a small-time sort of mission for the likes of Superboy and Robin, but it wasn’t as if there was anything else to investigate and making up for incompetent police was what heroes did. All they had to do was find and expose some irrefutable evidence to force the school’s hand or find the perpetrators themselves and knock some heads.

“Do you know  _ where _ in the nature reserve they supposedly go?” Robin asked. 

Superboy shook his head. “Sorry, no. The rumors weren’t that detailed.” He set Robin down on the inside of the chain link fence surrounding the reserve. 

“Then we’re going in blind,” Robin whispered. “Stay alert.”

“I’ll do surveillance from the sky, see if there’s anything going on,” Superboy said, taking off again. 

Robin nodded. “I’ll search the perimeter.” Since he was already by the fence, he could just follow it. He took to the trees to avoid being seen if anyone was there. Jumping from limb to limb, he kept a sharp eye on the fence and surrounding area. Beyond the fence he could see the bay glittering in the moonlight and from the city lights. Cicadas and crickets chorused, interspersed with the croak of a frog. As scenic as it was, it did make it difficult to hear if anyone was approaching. Distantly, a loon gave a startled tremulo laugh and Robin froze. He was far too stealthy for animals to notice him and Superboy was in the sky. He took off in the direction of the call. The bird may have been started by a fox, but it was a lead and he was taking it.

As much as he hadn’t missed flying, he had missed the feeling of propelling himself through the air, on the hunt. He grinned to himself, satisfied that city life hadn’t ruined his sylvan skills. Even if this case didn’t lead anywhere, he was glad for the opportunity to  _ do  _ something. 

An irregularity in the fence caught his attention. There, at the base of the fence was an approximately three foot hole, underneath which the ground was grassless and muddy. Footprints overlapped in the soft soil on either side of the hole. 

Activating his comm, he alerted Superboy. “I found where they’re getting in. There’s a hole in the fence.”

“Roger that,” Superboy said. Then, “Robin, be careful, there’s someone near your location.”

Robin snapped to the alert. He couldn’t hear or see anyone immediately nearby. 

“Regroup with me and we can follow them,” he whispered into the comm. A few moments later, Superboy appeared at his side, pointing into the forest and nodding. Superboy led the way, maintaining a safe distance from their target. Odds were good that it was just someone sneaking here to do drugs uninterrupted, but Robin didn’t mind the chase anyway. 

Superboy stopped short, indicating for Robin to do the same. 

“What is it?” Robin whispered, glad for his partner’s super hearing. 

“He’s going into… a building,” he replied. “I didn’t know there was a building on the nature reserve.”

“Let’s check it out.” Robin started off again. Indeed, several hundred feet deeper into the woods, sunken and derelict, was a building. What remained of its roof was domed like an observatory. 

“Huh,” Superboy muttered. 

Robin bumped him with his shoulder. “What’s in there?”

Superboy focused on the abandoned building. “There’s two people. They’re talking.”

“Rendez-vous? Tryst? Drug deal?” Robin asked. 

“Out of those, I’d say drug deal; they’re not getting friendly,” said Superboy. “They’re talking about a meeting though.”

“A meeting?” Robin repeated. “What kind of meeting?”

Superboy held up a hand for quiet. He waited. 

_ “Definitely  _ a drug deal,” he said finally. 

Robin shrugged. He’d figured as much. He wasn’t particularly interested in busting some dudes’ weed trade, either. “What kind of drugs?” he asked anyway. “How much is he paying for them?”

Superboy flushed. “Look, uh, I actually don’t know my drugs all that well.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “What does it look like?”

“I dunno, a white powder?” Superboy squinted. 

“That could be a lot of things,” Robin said. So a little more hardcore than weed. Still, his job was stopping people from hurting others, and this wasn’t sounding like his jurisdiction. “What’s it in?” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Superboy said. He focused intently. His face screwed up in confusion. “What’s GHB?” 

Robin’s head snapped up. “We’re going in. Now!” 

“What?” Superboy asked, already following as Robin closed in. 

Shooting his grappling hook into a tree, Robin kicked through the collapsing roof into the dark interior. 

“What the—!” one of the men cried. Locking on to his location in the dark, Robin aimed a kick. He felt his boot brush something, but apparently the guy had dodged. “Take it! Take it and get out of here!” he called. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Superboy shouted. Robin couldn’t see him in the dark, but he could hear a scuffle nearby. 

Something knocked hard into the back of his head and Robin stumbled forward with a hiss. 

“Robin, are you okay?” Superboy asked. 

“Fine,” Robin confirmed. His pride was hurt worse than his head. He spun around, catching his assailant with a sharp jab. The resulting grunt of pain clued Robin in to his location and he returned the favor to his head. Gripping the man’s arm, he flung him into the wall. Robin’s grin of triumph only lasted a moment because the building gave an ominous groan. 

“Robin?” Superboy called, concerned. “We need to get out of here!” 

Several chunks of the ceiling began to fall and Robin braced for their impact… only to find himself and Superboy in a tree above the building, watching as a large section of the roof caved in. A plume of dust rose into the sky. 

Superboy grimaced. “Maybe they’re okay?” But as he suggested it, the other half of the roof caved in. “...Or not. We should rescue them.”

Robin nodded. “We should rescue them.”

Superboy set to surveying the rubble. “They’re gone!” he gasped. 

“They’re dead?” Robin blinked. 

Superboy shook his head. “No they’re… not there.” He did a quick fly through the unstable building to confirm that neither the people, nor the drugs were there. When he returned he was shaking his head. “They got away.”

Robin swore in frustration. “This is bad.”

“What was the drug?” Superboy asked. 

“GHB. It is a prescription tranquilizer,” Robin growled. “Or, since I doubt our two houdinis are suffering from narcolepsy, more likely intended to be used as a date-rape drug.” 

“Oh.” Superboy’s eyes went wide. “And they got away.”

“Indeed.”

Superboy chewed his lip in frustration. “We gotta fix this. What’s the plan? Find leads? Track them? We don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

“No, we do not,” Robin agreed. Assaults on campus connected to the nature reserve, and now drugs were getting involved. This was escalating. 

“Should we warn girls on campus? I don’t think there’s any way we’ll get to all of them in time—”

Robin snorted, cutting him off. “And not much point. It’s not gonna be news to them.”

Superboy looked away. “Right. You’re right. But we can’t just sit around doing nothing while we wait for another lead.”

“We’re not  _ going _ to do nothing,” Robin said. Superboy looked up expectantly. “We’re going to a party.”

“Thanks for getting us in, Sky.” Jon grinned at his boyfriend. Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Sky wrapped an arm around Jon’s shoulders. “Of course, anything for you.”

Damian knew that without Sky, it was unlikely Jon would have gotten into the club. Apparently it was some big to-do party here before some big to-do college event (a homecoming or something or the other) and getting in was a status symbol or something. Damian did not really understand, nor did he particularly care to. All that was important was that if people were interested in slipping something into drinks, this party was prime hunting ground. And while, as the son of  _ Bruce Wayne,  _ he would like to see a bouncer  _ try  _ to turn him away, he would rather to  _ not _ deal with the headache and fuss that would entail. So instead, he’d waited patiently while Sky performed an elaborate handshake with the delighted-looking bouncer (“I tutored him freshman year,” Sky had explained. “Well.  _ My  _ freshman year. His senior year. Second one.”) and then followed him in.

The inside of the club was just as oppressively  _ college student _ as the rest of this whole ordeal. Music thrummed so loud, it was almost more felt than heard. Strobe lights danced across a writhing crowd of dancers and B.O. assaulted Damian’s nose. It was near torture this his finely tuned senses, but he swallowed his discomfort for the mission. 

Jon was tugging on Sky’s arm. “Should we dance?” he shouted over the din. Damian wanted nothing more than to remind him that they were here for a  _ mission _ but for the sake of appearances, it did make sense for them to partake in normal party activities. That did not mean he wanted to watch Sky grinding on his best friend though. 

“Sure!” Sky agreed. 

Damian glowered at their backs as they made their way to the dance floor. “Don’t get too distracted,” he murmured, hoping Jon was listening. To get away from Jon and Sky, he shoved his way through the crowd to the bar. 

He ordered a beer (not his favorite, but he didn’t want to get tipsy on a mission, nor did he want to raise suspicion by seeming like a narc). He grabbed the bottle as soon as the bar keeper set it down and popped it open with his thumb. As he took a swig, he became aware of the people next him staring.

“What?” he challenged. 

“‘What’ yourself, Biceps,” one of the girls replied, fluttering her eyelashes. 

Oh. They were flirting. That was fine, they could knock themselves out with that. But he was focused on his mission. He glanced over to where Jon was making a fool of himself on the dance floor. “Not interested.” 

“Oh?” she said. She followed his gaze.  _ “OH!” _

Next to her, her friend scoffed. “It’s like they always say, ‘why are the hot ones always gay?’”

“Shut  _ up,” _ the original girl hissed. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

Damian gave them a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. ‘Gay?’ He wasn’t  _ gay, _ he was just… looking at Jon. Ah. 

He shook his head. “He has a boyfriend,” he explained, gesturing at Jon. He wasn’t interested in him, he was keeping an eye on the idiot. 

Both girls looked stricken.

“That sucks, I’m so sorry,” the first girl said, eyebrows pinched in an excessively sympathetic expression. 

Damian stared at her blankly. This conversation was not going in the anticipated direction. 

“You know what?” the second girl announced. She ordered three shots from the bar, sliding one towards Damian. “We’re gonna need these. Tell us about it.” 

Damian looked from the proffered shot, to the earnest expressions the girls wore, to where Jon and Sky were dancing  _ decidedly _ closer than the last time he’d checked. 

He took the shot. “Where do I begin?” 

“—and so even though he’s spending more time with me now, I can’t help but feel…” Damian trailed off shaking his head. 

Janelle nodded fervently. “I think we’ve all been there, baby.”

Fiona (who, Damian had learned, was fond of pre-gaming and was much drunker than her friend) was close to tears. She clumsily placed her hands on his shoulders and stared him in the eyes. “Damian, you are a beautiful, beautiful man with really nice— and I mean  _ really _ nice— shoulders,” she gave his upper arms an appreciative squeeze, “like seriously, your arms are bigger than my  _ thighs. _ What do you  _ do? _ Benchpress trucks?” 

He shrugged. “Something like that.” 

She continued. “You are gorgeous. You are sexy. You are  _ rocking _ that sleeveless turtleneck. And Jim? Jack? Whats-his-name. He doesn’t  _ deserve  _ you.” She stood and pulled him into an awkward hug, cradling his head against her chest. 

From behind her friend, Janelle mouthed an apology. Damian just sighed. 

“Damian! Da— Oh, uh, hey… Damian?” 

Damian wrenched himself from Fiona’s grip when he heard Jon’s voice. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jon said and Damian rolled his eyes. “But I need to talk to you real quick.”    
“Alright,” Damian agreed. He turned to find Fiona and Janelle wearing matching glares at Jon. When they realized they were caught, they turned likewise matching supportive smiles at him. “Alright,” he said again, excusing himself. 

As Jon led them to a more secluded location, he leaned over to mutter, “They looked like they wanted to kill me. What did you  _ tell  _ them about me?”

Damian smirked, despite himself. “Only the bad things.” 

“Rude,” Jon whined. He glanced around them and leaned in close. “I saw the guy. He’s here.”

Damian’s eyes widened, his mind racing. “I will tip off the bartenders, you will keep an eye on the drinks, and we do not let the target get out of our sight.”

“What’s the goal?” Jon asked. 

“Catch him in the act. The moment he slips anything into a drink, one of us will call attention to it and make a scene. That should be sufficient to force the university to take some action, at least against this perpetrator,” Damian delineated. 

Jon nodded. “Be careful.”

“Never,” Damian responded, just to be contrary. 

Jon rolled his eyes, but grinned as he walked back towards the crowd. “You’ll owe me one if I have to save you,” he called over his shoulder.

Damian wasn’t worried since Jon owed him several dozen favors. He also wasn’t planning on getting into trouble. Well, not trouble he couldn’t get himself out of. 

Fiona was cocking a pierced eyebrow at him as he returned to the bar. “What was all that about?”

“Nothing,” Damian answered coolly. 

“‘Nothing?’” Fiona repeated. “‘Nothing,’ tra-la-la?” 

“That’s a reference to  _ Labyrinth,” _ Janelle explained quickly. “But, yeah, Damian, what did Mr. Dreamy Blue Eyes and Tousled Hair want?”

Ugh, these women were nosy and persistent, a bad combination for keeping secrets. “I told you, he is my best friend, he simply—” Damian broke off as an idea came to him. He glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Look, he saw his ex here. He’s the bad type. The kind to slip things into drinks.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst,” Janelle said. “Let us know if you wanna beat him up, Fi and I’ll join you.”

Fiona nodded drunkenly. “I have Mace.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Damian said. “But in the meantime, just be mindful. There’s a rumor someone at this party is spiking drinks.”

“And water is wet.” Janelle shook her head. “Damian, honey, that’s  _ every _ party.” 

“Let me rephrase,” he said. He leaned forward, gaze intense. “I have it on good authority that someone here has roofies and intends to use them.”

Janelle blinked. “Well, alright. We’ll be  _ extra  _ careful.”

“Aw, Damian, you’re so sweet for caring,” Fiona simpered, leaning heavily against him. “You’re like a superhero. You’re like  _ Superman.” _

Damian bristled. “Or Batman.” 

“Meh, Superman’s better,” Fiona laughed. Damian quickly shrugged her off.

“In what way?” he demanded. 

“Wow,  _ someone’s _ a Batman fan. I think Fi meant it’s more of a compliment to be compared to Superman.” Janelle was barely holding in laughter. “Flashier. More visible.” 

Damian hmphed. “Batman is cooler.” 

Janelle and Fiona broke off into giggles, teasing him, but Damian tuned them out when he noticed Jon’s stare. 

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Jon nodded his head to the right, trying to point something out to him. Damian glanced over and couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Unlike Jon he hadn’t gotten a good look at their perp and did not know quite what he was looking for. He turned back to Jon for more direction. Jon looked frustrated. He made a circle from his upper lip to his chin like he was stroking a beard. Glancing over again, Damian saw who Jon was gesturing to. A guy with messy brown hair and a sparse beard was ordering a drink, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket. When Damian tried to nod at Jon to confirm he had visual on the target, Jon was being tugged back onto the dance floor by an insistent Sky. Sky shot Damian a glare. Damian was too surprised to glare back. What was his problem? 

Whatever. He had a mission. 

“Excuse me,” he said, interrupting whatever bad impression Fiona was doing. He moved away from the girls towards the target. 

“Bye, then,” Fiona said, annoyed. “I guess.”

“Don’t worry about him, Fi,” Janelle was comforting her. 

The target was waiting for his drink, looking bored. Damian didn’t want to make him aware of his presence by staring or loitering for no reason, so he went over and ordered a drink for himself. Now he could wait nearby without arousing suspicion. Even so, the target eyed him warily. After glancing at his arms, the target took an unsubtle step away from him. Damian resisted the urge to scoff. Perhaps though, he should have worn something less threatening, like Jon in his oversized white sweater and reappearance of his so-called ‘party pants.’ Where he was goofing around on the dance floor, he looked soft and harmless and not at all like he could lift a semi-truck with his left pinkie finger. 

Damian’s drink was ready, as was the target’s. The target took a seat at the bar, but Damian elected to stay standing a distance away for a better vantage. Without Janelle and Fiona, he had nothing to do to occupy him or to help him look not suspicious. Jon, of course, was engrossed with his boyfriend on the dance floor. Damian made a face. Weren’t they tired? Were they not disgusted by the proximity to everyone else’s sweat? Did they not care that some of their ‘dancing’ was a little much for a public space? 

“Hey!” An offended cry caught his attention. 

Damian whipped around. 

The target was sitting next to a girl who was frantically blotting her shirtfront, her glass tipped over. 

“I’m so sorry,” the target apologized. “I’ll get you some more napkins. Here, you can have my drink, I haven’t had any. I’ll get myself a new one.”

Damian stiffened, ready to spring into action. 

“No thanks,” the girl said. “I think this is just a sign that it’s time for me to leave. Thank you though.” She stood and left. 

_ Smart girl, _ Damian thought. The target was on the move and he could use some backup. He searched the dance floor for Jon’s familiar figure. He and Sky must have moved father to the back because he couldn’t see them. Damian groaned. With frequent glances at the target, he made his way onto the biohazard that was the dance floor. 

People jostled him left and right. Several people tried to catch his eye, inviting him into a dance but he simply let his gaze slip over theirs dismissively. He peeked around writhing bodies, but no sign of Jon. Most of the time, Damian did not mind his stature; he was a little shorter than average, sure, but there were many situations where that was to his advantage. Searching for people in crowds was  _ not _ one such situation. He couldn’t keep a steady visual on the target like this either. 

“Jon, where are you?” he muttered quietly, hoping his friend was listening. 

_ There. _ He caught sight of Jon’s white jumper, just as Sky was pulling Jon into a deep kiss. 

Damian’s vision went red. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His stomach turned. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to punch something. It felt bad; it felt  _ wrong. _ He hated the way Jon’s hands held onto Sky. He hated how they pressed together. He was completely filled with disgust. 

The mission. He had to focus on the mission. With a deep breath that smelled of sweat, he marched over to the lovers. 

He cleared his throat. “Jon.” 

“Mmf—D!” Jon pulled away from the kiss. “What—?”

Damian jerked his head towards the bar in lieu of words. 

“Ah, right, um,” he turned apologetically to Sky. “I’ll be right back.” He extracted himself from his boyfriend’s grasp. Damian ignored the glare leveled at him this time. When they were a safe distance away, Jon asked, “What’s up?”

“Target attempted a strike. Girl walked away though. His strategy was to spill her drink and then offer her his,” Damian briefed. 

Jon nodded. “Where is he now.”

Damian stiffened. “I’ve… lost visual on the target.” 

Jon glanced around too. “I can’t see him either. You don’t think he left, do you?”

“Not without his ‘prey,’” Damian growled. He glanced up and down the bar. No douchey beard or leather jacket. “Damnit.” 

“Damian!” 

Damian turned to see Janelle waving him over.

“Did Fi find you?” she asked. 

“I was not aware she was looking for me,” Damian said. “What did she want?”

“To dance.” Janelle shrugged. 

Damian grimaced. “She was in for a disappointment then.”

“We saw you go onto the dance floor, though,” Janelle said. 

“Not to  _ dance.” _

Janelle rolled her eyes. “Well gee, we should have known someone would go onto the dance floor to  _ not _ dance.” 

Damian turned away. “Let her down easy from me when you find her.” 

“Looks like I don’t have to,” Janelle snickered. “She found someone else.”

“Good for her,” Damian said dryly, scanning the walls for his target. 

Then Jon grabbed his arm. “Dami,  _ look.” _

Damian looked up to see Fiona leaning heavily against some dude like she had against him earlier. Then the guy turned and Damian froze. It was the target. And he was guiding the stumbling Fiona towards the back exit. He and Jon glanced at each other and took off. 

“Hey! What—!” Janelle protested as they left. 

They pushed their way through the crowd as quickly as they could, trying to reach the target before he made it to the door. 

“Stop!” Jon cried, tripping out of the crowd to plant himself between the target in the door. The target faltered, glancing behind him, where Damian appeared, cutting off his escape. 

“H-hi,” he greeted in a cracking voice. “Can I help you?”

“Where are you taking my friend?” Damian asked. 

“You friend?” the target challenged. 

Damian ignored him. “Fi, are you okay?”

“Damian?” Fiona asked groggily. She fumbled to stand on her own, shaking badly. “Damian, heyyyy…d’ya wanna dance?” 

Damian leveled an unamused glare at the target. 

He held his hands up in defense. “She’s really drunk, I was getting her a taxi.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Jon said diplomatically, still blocking the exit. “But we’ve got her from here.” 

“Ah, well, if you dudes got this, I wash my hands of this,” the target chuckled nervously, trying to make his way back into the club. Damian held a hand against his chest, stopping him. 

“I don’t believe you for a  _ second,” _ he spat. 

“Whoa, whoa, I don’t want any trouble,” the target said. 

“No?” Damian said in a low voice. “Then I suggest you happen to not have any illicit substances on you.” 

The target narrowed his eyes. “Hey, you’re not a cop are you? You have to tell me if you are, right?” 

Damian smiled dangerously. “Not a cop.” 

The target blinked. Then he said, “Good.” And punched Damian square in the face and made a run for it. 

“Hey!” Jon cried, but he was busy steadying Fiona. 

The punch was more surprising than it was painful and it didn’t stall Damian for long. He was on the chase. The target was pushing through the crowd and Damian was hot on his tail, heart pumping. 

_ And the hunter becomes the prey, _ he thought, only somewhat maniacally. 

“Move!” he bellowed, and the throng parted. With people out of the way, he had a clear shot. With a flying leap, he tackled the target to the ground, putting his weight into restraining his limbs. Security showed up a minute later. 

“He drugged my friend and punched me in the face,” Damian explained quickly before he could be yanked from the man. “He’s trying to escape.”

“We’ve got it from here, son,” one of the security guards said.

Damian only relaxed once the man was in handcuffs and he was certain he was going to be questioned and searched. 

“We’ll also need an ambulance for the girl,” Jon said, carrying Fiona over. “She passed out.”

“Oh my  _ god, Fi!” _ Janelle ran frantically to Jon’s side to check on her friend. To Damian she said, “You saved her!” She threw her arms around him. 

Damian patted her back and Jon looked away. 

Later, once Fi was in an ambulance and the target was in police custody, Damian, Jon, and Sky were walking back to their apartments. 

“Well,” Sky said, clearing his throat. “I think that takes the cake for the worst date I’ve ever been on.” 

Jon laughed and Sky joined him. 

And Damian couldn’t help feeling satisfied about being instrumental in the worst date Sky had had in his life. 

_ Journal Entry _

_ The mission was successful. Target was apprehended with minimal damage. Victim was relatively unharmed and recovered quickly. Subsequently, both Victim and Victim’s Friend insisted on giving me their contact information. Friends acquired(?). Target implicated two of his friends and gave some identifying details about the dealer from which he acquired the GHB. Several previous victims have confirmed Target and friends as their assaulters. University has released a safety statement warning people to watch their drinks and has made drink testing kits available for students. However, they have declined to take responsibility for inaction or make clear the consequences for perpetrators. Disappointing, but not surprising. Though this particular threat has been eliminated, I will continue to be vigilant. This city is under my protection now and I will not take kindly to those who take advantage of others. _

_ Update on J: Idiot. Needs to raise his International Affairs grade. _

_ Update on S: I am constantly forced to reckon with the fact that S is a good match for J. I am distressingly unsure how to feel about this.  _

_ Update on A: Perfect. Completely weaned. Apt to climb up pant legs.  _

The more Damian thought about it, the less Dick’s theory that he was ‘jealous’ made sense. He was spending a lot of time with Jon. True to his word, Jon diligently patrolled with him at least once a week, often times more. Damian helped Jon study and do his homework. Sometimes Jon and Sky would hang out in their apartment instead of Sky’s. Sometimes he and Jon would just hang out together. So  _ why _ would he still be jealous? Because, indeed, every time he saw Jon and Sky together, no matter how much time he’d just spent with his best friend, he was filled with bitterness. Even when he was intending to spend the afternoon alone, the knowledge that Jon would be spending it with Sky needled him. Plus ‘jealousy’ could not explain the  _ disgust  _ he felt watching them kiss. Or hearing them flirt. Or even thinking about them being romantic. 

As ridiculous and unlikely as it seemed, he kept returning to the one explanation that made sense: he was homophobic. 

He must be somehow homophobic but only to Jon. That would explain why he hated when he spent time with Sky, it was because he hated their gay relationship. It explained the nausea he felt when they kissed, when they  _ hugged.  _ It explained his anger, his revulsion, his distraction. It must be something about Jon that made him hate that he was gay. 

Right now, Jon and Sky were on the couch, watching some poorly made war movie. Jon didn’t like it. Damian could tell because he could hear his constant chattering and jokes about what was happening on screen. Sky would laugh and Damian’s insides did admirable impressions of the Flying Graysons. He tried to ignore them, holing up in his room and playing with Audrey. 

He held feathers on a string above her head for her to bat at. She jumped clumsily at the toy, tiny paws flailing and tail flicking. He let her catch it and smiled when she flipped herself over to hold it with her front paws and batter it with her hind. Her attention span was short though and she quickly stood up, shaking her head. Damian let her crawl onto his lap and didn’t even mind when she stretched, digging her kitten claws into his legs. He rubbed under her chin with a finger. 

“Good girl, Audrey,” he told her. “We could train you and hone your hunting instincts. Would you like to be a super cat?” 

Audrey only purred in response. 

In the living room, Jon was loudly commenting about how a character was being stupid but stopped mid-sentence. Damian lifted his head. He could only hear the movie score now. His blood went cold as he realized what that probably meant. They were kissing like teenagers in the back of a movie theatre. And Damian hated it. He felt so angry. Angry at Sky for kissing Jon and angry at Jon for kissing a guy. 

What was  _ wrong _ with him? Jon was his best friend, he put up with Damian’s standoffishness and harsh criticism and general assholery. He didn’t deserve disgust. He deserved to be happy. He certainly didn’t deserve to deal with this. 

Damian needed to leave. He needed to figure himself out. Only when he figured out how to not be a homophobic wreck could he return. 

“We’re leaving,” he told Audrey, scooping her up. He quickly put together a bag, placed Audrey in her carrier, and threw open his door. He deliberately did not look at the couch.

“D?” he heard Jon call. “Everything okay?”   
“I’m going home,” he said without turning around. 

“Home?” Jon repeated, sounding concerned. “To Gotham?”

Damian pulled on his shoes. “Yes.”

“Is everything okay?” Jon asked again. The crouch creaked as Jon moved to get off it.

“Yes,” he said again. He shut the door behind him before Jon could ask any more questions. 

Pennyworth greeted him at the door, taking Audrey’s carrier and eyeing the white kitten fondly. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Pennyworth asked. 

“I found I needed a break from having a roommate,” Damian answered. It wasn’t entirely true, and by Pennyworth’s knowing look, he could tell. But it was true enough that he thankfully did not press the issue. 

“Of course. You are in luck then; almost everyone is on a mission. You have the house nearly to yourself,” Pennyworth said. He was frighteningly skilled at reading Damian’s expressions and must have noticed his disappointment because he quickly added, “Master Timothy is in the cave, however.”

Damian nodded, “Thank you.” 

Resentment aside, Drake probably was the best person to talk to about this. Grayson had already heard and dismissed his homophobia theory, Todd would likely offer to off Sky or something of the like, Cain wasn’t a talker, Brown was  _ too much _ of a talker, he and Thomas weren’t close, talking to Father would be awkward, and Pennyworth would only offer encouragement and perhaps silent judgement. Drake was the perfect combination of someone whose opinion Damian did not care about, but did value. He would care enough to talk, but not enough to get involved. 

“Drake,” Damian greeted, entering the cave. 

Tim was sat in front of a series of screens, feet propped on the desk, and a nearly empty carton of goldfish crackers open on the floor next to him. He looked up, blinking. 

“Oh. Hey, Damian. Dick’s not here,” he called. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “I am not here to see Grayson.”

Tim looked confused. “B isn’t here either.” 

“And I am not here to see Father,” Damian snarked. “I need to talk to  _ you.” _

Tim sat up at that, finger pointed at his own chest. “Me? You’re here to see little ol’ me?” 

“Don’t act like an idiot, Drake,” Damian said dryly. 

“This is genuine shock,” Tim said. “What can I do for you?’

Damian took a breath. “I am homophobic.”

Tim didn’t react much besides nodding. “...Alright?” 

“And I do not want to be homophobic,” Damian explained.

Tim considered this. “Alright. I can get behind that. What prompted all of this?” 

“I keep thinking homophobic thoughts about Jon and feeling gross whenever he is with his boyfriend. Jon doesn’t deserve that so I need to make it stop.” Damian felt a wave of shame wash over him for feeling this way. 

“What kind of ‘homophobic thoughts’ do you think?” Tim asked, tone vaguely curious and non-judgemental. 

Damian shrugged. “The thought of him having a boyfriend makes me feel sick.” 

Tim frowned contemplatively. “Hm. How about me? I have a boyfriend. Does that make you feel sick?” 

“The thought of  _ anybody _ dating  _ you _ makes me feel sick,” Damian quipped. “For their sake.” 

“Ouch,” Tim grinned. “But  _ touché. _ How about… hmm… Bart Allen is dating a boy. Or was. I’m not sure if they’re still together...But how does that make you feel? _ ” _

Damian conjured a mental image of the speedster. He tried to imagine him with a boy. He felt no disgust, just the casual disinterest he held for most people’s love lives. “It doesn’t make me feel anything.” 

“Good, good,” Tim muttered. “But what if Bart started dating Jon?”

When Damian replaced his mental image of Bart’s imaginary boyfriend with Jon, a familiar sense of wrongness filled him. “I would dislike it. But I already know I’m only homophobic for Jon.” 

“Ah, but you’re not,” Tim announced. “Congratulations, Dami, you are  _ not _ homophobic.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Grayson said the same thing, but you’re not listening. I  _ am.” _

“It is my professional gay opinion that you are not homophobic. You are, however, crushing on Jon,” Tim diagnosed. 

_ What. _

_ “What?” _

“And really, who could blame you? Puberty was good to him, he’s an excellent hero, as far as I can tell he’s your closest friend, and best of all, he puts up with you! That’s the full package.” Tim gave Damian a friendly punch to the shoulder that Damian was too preoccupied to dodge (though he definitely could have. He just knew Tim wasn’t strong enough to hurt him. Yeah). 

“I am  _ not _ ‘crushing’ on him,” Damian hissed. 

“No?” Tim raised one eyebrow. “We’re detectives. Let’s look at the evidence.” 

“I am a detective. You are a disgrace,” Damian muttered. Drake  _ was  _ a detective, and a good one at that, but it would be a cold day in hell before Damian admitted it. 

“On account of your impending sexuality crisis, I will graciously ignore that,” Tim said, the sanctimonious bastard. He mimed looking through a file. “Ahem. Evidence that you are not homophobic, case 1: you are not bothered by anyone in a gay relationship except for Jon. I’d argue that rules out homophobia by itself, but let’s continue. Case 2: the feelings you’re concerned about are consistent with jealousy. Case 3: these feelings only started occurring recently, meaning the underlying issue is also recent which is not consistent with homophobia. Case 4: this is actually a conjecture, but I suspect you would feel the same if Jon were to date anyone regardless of gender.”

Damian considered that case and could not argue.

“In conclusion,” Tim continued, “your feelings are caused by  _ jealousy _ because  _ you _ want to date Jon.”

“No,” Damian said. He did not want to date Jon. He would know if he did. Surely he would have noticed attraction towards  _ boys _ by this point if he had any. 

Tim shrugged, looking a little sympathetic. “That’s the conclusion I’d draw. But hey, there’s a way you can rule it out for sure if you think it’s not true: test the hypothesis.” 

And goddamnit, Drake was correct. That was the logical next step. But the prospect of dissecting his emotions towards his best friend left him weary and somewhat intimidated. There was no way he had fallen for his best friend without noticing… but if somehow he  _ had… _

Tim must have noticed his distress because he wordlessly held the Goldfish carton out to him. After a moment’s hesitation, Damian accepted it. 

“Jon, I’m back,” Damian called, shutting the door with his hip. The apartment was dark and quiet enough that he could hear the rain outside. Jon was probably out with Sky. Whatever. 

He let Audrey out of her carrier and set about preparing himself some dinner. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised that Jon wasn’t here. He’d stayed in Gotham for a few days, playing video games with Drake and avoiding the inevitable. Jon was an extrovert and didn’t much like being alone so he was unlikely to hang around the empty apartment. It was shameful that he felt relieved over that. Drake had not entirely convinced him that it was not homophobia that he was feeling, but something about his matter-of-fact way of addressing the situation comforted Damian. When it came to logic, Drake was actually useful. And he was right; whatever this was, Damian would not be able to solve it by running away like a coward. He had hypotheses to test and one Timothy Drake-Wayne to prove wrong. 

He was  _ not  _ ‘crushing’ on Jon. 

The door flung open and a very damp Jon moped in. He sniffed audibly. When he looked up and noticed Damian, he jumped. 

“Oh, you’re back!” he said, the cheer in his voice failing to mask its rawness. He turned his face away, subtly wiping at his eyes. “It’s raining pretty hard out there.”

Damian approached his friend. “Jon, why are you crying?”

“It’s fine,” Jon dismissed. “When’d you get back?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Recently. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, I just—” Jon denied. 

“You are!” Damian said. He looped his fingers around Jon’s wrists to pull him to face him. “What happened?” 

Jon sighed. “It’s not a big deal, so you don’t need to worry about it or anything, but… Sky and I had a fight. And it’s been our first real fight as a couple— and really my first real relationship fight and I just— I hate feeling like I’ve messed up. Or that someone is mad at me.”

Damian listened. Jon fought with Sky. “Did you mess up?” Damian asked, curious. Internally, he cringed at himself. That was a tactless thing to say. He hoped he hadn’t made things worse for Jon. 

Jon shrugged sadly. “I don’t think so. But I didn’t  _ not _ mess up, I just— I am the way I am. It’s nothing new.” 

“You shouldn’t have to change yourself for Sky,” Damian said, an angry undercurrent to his voice. Sky had fought with Jon. 

Jon smiled weakly. “I know that. I’m just upset.” 

Jon was upset. Damian searched his best friend’s familiar blue eyes and frowned at the tears that were still dripping from them. He hated seeing people cry. He used to hate it because he thought it made people look weak. Then he hated it because he was jealous of it, wished he could release emotions through tears. Now he hated it because he did not want people to be hurt. He did not want Jon to be upset. 

Jon and Sky had a fight. 

“Would you like to watch  _ Legally Blonde _ ?” Damian offered. He knew for a fact Jon loved that movie.

Jon gave a wet laugh and nodded. 

Damian steered his best friend to the couch, sitting him down. Jon let him. Damian handed him the blue blanket (Damian preferred the blue blanket because it was soft, but he figured Jon needed it more right now). He grabbed the remote before Jon could and set up the movie. He went to the kitchen and returned with a mug of disgustingly sweet hot cocoa and some tissues, which Jon accepted gratefully. 

Damian situated himself on the couch and Jon immediately installed himself next to him, pressed against his side. Damian let Jon rest his head against his shoulder and let his arm drape against Jon’s back. 

As the opening montage began with upbeat music, Damian found himself unable to focus on it. His mind was buzzing with the knowledge that Jon and Sky had fought. It was filling him with something unfamiliar. It was like static and anxiety and excitement. He was… he was  _ happy _ that they’d fought. He felt buoyant and exhilarated and hopeful. He shouldn’t be pleased that his best friend fought with his boyfriend, but he was. 

This didn’t feel like homophobia. This felt like he was getting away with something he shouldn’t. He glanced at Jon’s profile, at his long eyelashes, at his stupid button nose, at his dark hair curling damply at his temples. He felt like maybe he shouldn’t be allowed to. Jon was his best friend, he should be able to look at him if he wanted to. So why did he feel guilty and thrilled? 

Damian wasn’t stupid. He understood what this was. 

He felt envious of Sky.

_ He  _ wanted to look at Jon with affection and to have Jon catch his gaze and grin and lean in.  _ He _ wanted to be the one Jon talked about constantly.  _ He _ wanted to be the one to wrap his arms around Jon.  _ He... _ he wanted to be the one to kiss Jon. To date him. To do sappy things like hold his hands and take him on dates and dance with him embarrassingly in smelly clubs. It took so long to realize that, but now it was clear. It was obvious that Damian wanted to be Jon’s favorite and he wanted everything he had to offer. Seeing someone else be with Jon like that felt  _ wrong _ and now he knew why. 

And this wasn’t ‘attraction’ exactly. Nothing had changed, but he now understood the ways he could spend his time with Jon were much more numerous than he’d ever presumed. 

Or they had been. 

He wrapped his other arm around Jon and squeezed him close in a hug of sorts. Jon made a pleased noise and relaxed further. Damian wanted to bury his face in his hair or to wipe the remaining dampness from his cheeks. 

But he could not. 

He could not because Jon was with Sky and would not appreciate that sort of attention. 

He could not because he had been too caught up in his own mind to realize his feelings. 

He could not because… 

Because he realized too late that he was in love with Jon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually planned this fic on the way to my Linear Algebra lecture, thought about this fic during the entire lecture, and texted the entirety of my plan to my sister immediately after the lecture.  
> I'll be honest, I love roommate fics as much as the next guy, and I love my roommates dearly (I would have gone CRAZY without them this semester) but I'm gonna go ahead and say that realistically, being roommates with someone usually doesn't end with falling in love. Just something I think about whenever I think about the trope. (Si tu es ma colocataire et que tu lis ceci, je t'aime <3.)  
> I've been sitting on this chapter for so long because I didn't want to post it before I was done with the semester because I knew that if this fic got any positive attention, all I was going to want to do all day every day was write. But now that I'm done with finals I can afford to write all day every day >:D  
> I'll be back with Part II soon! Prepare yourself for some Intense Pining, Intense Jealousy, maybe some rebounding, and some more mission!  
> (BTW the planning doc for this fic was called "and the were ROOMMATES" and the writing doc is called "OMG they were ROOMMATES")


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But I didn’t know I was jealous, how would he know I was jealous?” Damian demanded. A panicked buzz was making its way through his limbs.   
> “He has eyes,” Janelle said. She sighed, tone turning more sympathetic. “The guy clearly knows you super well. It’s more likely than you may think.” 
> 
> Or:  
> Damian: Powers of perception?? In _my_ Jon?  
> Janelle: It's more likely that you may think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniff sniff* y'all smell that? Sorta.....Piney. Here there be pining. And an extra serving of jealousy!!! And some more MISSION DRAMA!

Joy, guilt, and sadness were battling in Jon’s mind as he cuddled against Dami. His best friend usually wasn’t the most tactile of folk, but what he lacked in quantity he made up for in quality. Damian really threw himself wholeheartedly into whatever he was doing; it was one of the things Jon loved about him. Sure, Dami could be acerbic, arrogant, and sometimes a straight-up asshole, but it was Jon’s belief that actions speak louder than words, and Dami’s actions were nothing short of heroic. While Jon struggled over calculus homework, Damian was working, always working, on a case. Damian saved kittens. Damian brought him blankets and hot chocolate and hugged him while they watched  _ Legally Blonde. _ Jon wrapped his arms around Damian’s middle. Damian let him. Jon considered himself fluent in Damian-ese. That was, he took his words with a grain of salt and focused on what he was  _ doing. _ And once he’d figured that out, it was inevitable that he fell in love with him. 

Yeah. He was in love with his best friend. It was really stupid.

Jon was doing his best to move on, romantically. He’d had a crush on Damian for… for, like,  _ ever _ , really. All through high school, he’d noticed more and more how pretty Damian’s eyes were, how attractive he was on their missions. He’d realized he was gay because of Damian and it wasn’t long before he realized that he was really, truly, head-over-heels for his best friend. 

As far as Jon could tell, Damian was straight. He knew Damian loved him, as a best friend, maybe even like a brother, or a brother-in-arms. And that was fine! Jon knew he was lucky to be one of the few people Damian considered himself close to. More than that, he was one of the  _ very  _ few in that number who didn’t have immediate ties to him. The more he’d learned about Damian, about his past, and truly learned to understand him, the more he realized how special their friendship was. The more he realized how important he must be to Damian. ...And the more he realized he shouldn’t make Damian deal with his feelings towards him. It’s hard to say how Damian would react. Sometimes Jon liked to imagine he confessed and Damian admitted he’d felt the same way. Realistically, he knew he would probably be awkward and uncomfortable. He would be professional about their relationship as Robin and Superboy and he would try to keep their personal relationship the same, but… he  _ trusted  _ Jon. He trusted him and trust from Damian was not to be taken lightly. And Jon couldn’t help but feel like he’d betrayed Damian’s trust by falling in love with him. 

Besides that, romantic relationships always seemed so breakable to Jon. Friendships, brotherhood, were strong. They could take a beating. A fight between friends was seldom the end of their relationship. But it seemed like if two people were in love, more often, they ended up hating each other. Romance turned relationships into glass, lovely but fragile. Jon feared what he’d do if his and Damian’s relationship turned to glass like that. He remembered one time, when he was 14, he’d gotten into an argument with his mom. He couldn’t say now that the argument had been about, but he remembered clearly the feeling of losing his temper and losing control of his strength. He remembered the blur and the burn of it and looking down to realize he’d reduced his favorite mug to dust in his grip. 

Damian had been through far too much pain for someone to go through in a  _ lifetime _ , and Jon just couldn’t justify risking putting him through more just to entertain a teenage crush. 

So he was going to get over this crush. He would always love Damian, but he needed to knock this useless pining off. 

When he’d met Sky, he honestly thought he’d hit the jackpot. He was gorgeous and funny and kind. He was a good kisser and he got Jon’s heart racing. Jon was attracted to him, no doubt. He really really liked him. If they kept this up, he could see them getting serious. He could see Sky being the civilian boyfriend of Superboy. He liked the idea of sweeping him off his feet and rescuing him from danger (his parents’ stories were really cute, okay?). 

But in a stupid catch-22, his crush on Damian was an obstacle in the way of getting over his crush on Damian. 

He’d been sitting on Sky’s bed, making a weak effort to appear like he was studying for calculus. He glanced at his phone for the third time in as many minutes. 

“...Should I text him?” he asked Sky. “I know he said he was fine, but I’m worried about him.”

Sky looked up from his laptop. His expression was serious and he heaved a deep breath. “Okay, Jonny, now’s as good a time as any, so, I’d actually like to talk to you about that.” 

Jon felt a twinge of guilt. He had an idea of what this might be about, but he blinked innocently. “Sure, what’s up?” 

Sky set his laptop to the side and patted the bed on his other side for Jon to scoot up next to him. “So. I don’t care, and I haven’t cared, about what your roommate feels towards you. What he feels isn’t your responsibility. I knew you were choosing to date me, so I wasn’t worried. But Jonny, I’m starting to feel more and more like you’re also having feelings for your roommate.” Sky’s tone was calm and gentle, far from accusatory, but Jon felt like each word was a gavel coming down. 

Jon quickly shook his head. “That’s not it! He’s not just my roommate, he’s been my best friend for almost half my life. He’s  _ saved  _ my life before. I’m worried about him because he tends to forget he doesn’t have to go through things alone. He’s my best friend and that’s not changing.” Jon said. Then, as an after-thought he added, “But you shouldn’t feel threatened by that.” 

“Okay, I believe you,” Sky said, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “I wouldn’t ask you to choose between me and your best friend. I know I’d lose.” 

Jon didn’t argue. 

“But if I’m competing as your boyfriend,” Sky continued with a teasing smirk, “I’d better not lose.”

Jon leaned into his side and kissed his jaw. “You won’t.” 

Sky turned his head towards Jon and held his chin between his fingers. “Good,” he said and kissed him. 

Their studies were long forgotten between kisses and touches while rain pounded against the window. Jon wanted to get into it, get swept away like usual, but his mind whirred, unable to be distracted. Sky must have noticed, because he pulled away, propping himself up on an elbow. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Jon curled up on himself, guilt filling him and threatening to spill over. Frustrated tears gathered in his eyes. He groaned in frustration. “You’re right.”

Sky blinked. “What?”

Jon looked up. “I said you’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right. I did have— do have a crush on him.” 

Sky did not look surprised. “Yeah?” 

Jon nodded miserably. “But I wasn’t lying. You’re not competing with him. You’re not— losing.” 

“Alright,” Sky said. He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “I believe you. But I think you should go home now.”

“Wha—?” Jon began to protest. 

“Please,” Sky added. “For tonight. We’ll talk later.” 

“Sky, I’m sorry—” Jon said, feeling tears of a different kind closing his throat up. “Nothing’s changed, it’s been this way from the beginning, I just need—”

“It’s  _ fine,” _ Sky said, less patiently. “You’re right, nothing’s changed. But please, Jonny. Go home.” 

“...Okay,” Jon agreed meekly. 

He walked home slowly, letting the rain soak him. He wanted his outside to match his miserable inside. He’d been so caught up in his morose thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the familiar heartbeat in their apartment as he approached. He jumped when he realized he wasn’t alone. 

“Oh, you’re back!” is all he’d managed in the fakest sounding happy voice. 

Damian, who read actions as much as he spoke in them himself, hadn’t bought it or let it go. 

Now they were cuddled up together on the couch watching  _ Legally Blonde _ and Jon couldn’t even find it in himself to make his usual suggestion that Damian change his costume to match Elle’s bunny costume. The movie was playing and he was watching it, but he was listening to Damian’s steady heartbeat. 

Damian wasn’t competing with Sky so Sky wasn’t losing. 

Jon had a feeling the only real loser here was him. 

_ Journal Entry: _

_ D was right. I attribute his successful identification of my feelings to the fact that he went through a similar, but distinctly more embarrassing phase of not recognizing his romantic feelings towards his own best friend. After I concluded the nature of my feelings, I thought it only right to inform D. He messaged me a highly insulting heart emoji like he was trying to be G or something. To his credit, he did ask my permission to tell G my conclusion (the fact that he already had told G and was retroactively asking my permission notwithstanding). I assume it is only a matter of time before T finds out as well. Ultimately, it does not matter. J is happily in a relationship and I feel that I would be a poor friend to put him in the position of putting up with my jealousy more than I already have. If J and S break up, I may consider revealing my newfound feelings. I doubt my feelings will be reciprocated, as J is not the type to stay quiet.  _

_ For now, since I am aware of my jealousy, I will be working on honing emotional discipline. Perhaps this will end up being a useful exercise. _

Damian was horribly out of practice when it came to emotional discipline. It came as a surprise to him. He always thought of himself as stoic and in control of his emotions. But it seemed that over the years of distancing himself from his childhood training and developing friendships, he’d lost his rigid control. There once was a time where he could have shut this romantic envy business down without batting an eye. Now he was gripped by  _ yearning _ . It was inconvenient. He thought about trying out the exercises to push his emotions down that he’d learned in his time with the League, but imagining the disappointed pout Grayson would give him if he learned what he was considering, Damian decided against it. If he wanted to rein in his envy, he was going to have to do it the normal person way: by talking about his feelings. 

Though Drake was proving to be surprisingly understanding and helpful through this, Damian found himself unable to swallow enough pride to pour his heart out to him on principle. Really, the idea of being vulnerable in front of anyone still made him cringe. The only person who might consider talking to about his  _ feelings _ was Jon, and for obvious reasons, that was not an option. 

So he was stuck. 

He was sat on the couch watching shitty true crime documentaries while Jon and Sky were ‘canoodling’ in the kitchen. Their argument hadn’t lasted long and Jon had cheerfully informed Damian that he ‘felt their relationship came out stronger for it.’ Disgusting. Once again, Damian was powerless against the slimy sensation of jealousy filling him. 

The first part of controlling emotions, Damian thought to himself, was identifying them. He took a breath. He was feeling jealous, that was clear. But jealousy was a complex of emotions. He was feeling angry (at Sky for dating Jon), angry (at himself for not realizing his feelings for Jon sooner), angry (at Jon for not knowing and reciprocating his feelings), and...sad. He was sad because he felt hurt that Jon was choosing someone above him. He felt hurt because he was scared that Jon would abandon him. And he wasn’t sure how to fix that so he was back at square one. 

Damian let his head fall against the back of the couch with a  _ thunk. _ Audrey, who had been resting in his lap, was roused by the noise and jumped off. She trotted into the kitchen, looking up at Sky expectantly. 

Great, even his cat was leaving him for Sky. 

When Sky reached down to scoop Audrey up, Damian raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you allergic?”

Sky didn’t even turn towards him. “Yeah, but a quick cuddle won’t kill me.” 

Damian resisted the urge to comment how unfortunate that was. Jon, as if reading his mind, fixed him with a narrowed glare. Damian pretended not to see it. 

This needed to end. He would not let his ‘crush’ end his nearly decade long friendship. While their friendship had endured trials on an interstellar level, there was no precedent for trials of interpersonal relationships. 

He thunked his head on the couch again. 

Things wouldn’t be so bad if he had a distraction. There were no missions demanding his attention, and Audrey, being fully weaned, was becoming independent (and he was proud of her). He didn’t want to take another trip home to Gotham. 

Perhaps he needed more friends. 

As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Janelle. She’d texted him updates on Fiona in the aftermath of the party (largely that after an IV and an hour of observation in the hospital, she was cleared) which Damian hadn’t needed, but suspected Janelle enjoyed giving. He was expecting yet another update on Fiona and was surprised to find an invitation to, ‘hang out sometime.’ 

He glanced back at the kitchen. Jon and Sky were bumping noses. They weren’t paying him any attention so he took the opportunity to stare balefully. 

He quickly typed out his response.

_ I’m leaving now. Address? _

He stormed around the apartment, more loudly than strictly necessary, to collect a jacket, boots, and keys.

“Going somewhere?” Jon asked. He and Sky had moved to take over the couch once Damian had vacated it. 

“Out,” Damian shrugged. “Do I need clearance to leave?”

“It was friendly curiosity,” Jon said, sounding hurt. 

Damian was not succeeding at his goal of  _ not _ hurting Jon with his feelings. 

He sighed. “I’m going to meet Janelle.”

Jon looked surprised. “Oh. Um. Have… fun?”

“You too,” Damian grunted. That didn’t seem like the correct response, but he wasn’t about to stick around and correct it. 

Outside the apartment, rain was suspended in the air in a fine mist that clung to his jacket and hair. It was chilly but not overly so. Since he was taking his motorcycle, he counted the small blessings. Keys in the ignition, he grinned at the rev. Some things never got old. He checked his phone to see Janelle had texted him an address. Presumably her place. 

Rain gathered in his eyelashes as he rode (because helmets were for people who did not regularly jump off buildings and participate in high speed chases). He blinked away the water and couldn’t help but to think it felt something like crying. 

A row of student townhouses rose up at the edge of the city, closer to the university. They were white and plain, suited for temporary living and constantly rotating tenants. Jon was lucky, he thought, to get to live in the penthouse apartment with him. It was beyond luxurious for a college student. 

Janelle opened the door as he approached. 

“Hey, Dami,” she greeted. “When I asked you if you wanted to hang out, I didn’t expect you to drop everything and come over.” 

“I wasn’t doing anything else,” he shrugged. “This seemed like more fun than third-wheeling in my own apartment.” 

Janelle tsked. “That’s the worst. Come on in.” 

Damian nodded his head in thanks and followed Janelle through the door and out of the mist. Immediately, the stale scent of cigarette smoke hit him. 

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” he commented. 

“I’m not,” Janelle snapped. “My roommates were when they still lived here. I guess Fi smokes sometimes too.” 

Damian scrutinized the peeling yellowed wallpaper in the narrow entryway. “I wasn’t aware she was your roommate.” 

“O for 2.” Janelle rolled her eyes. “She still lives on campus, but she might as well live here. I should charge her rent. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure,” Damian accepted. The walls were so narrow he felt the need to slide his hands into his pockets to avoid bumping anything. 

Janelle slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar and jerked her thumb towards the fridge. “Help yourself.”

The fridge was nearly overflowing with White Claw. Damian pulled one out and raised an eyebrow at Janelle. 

“Also Fi’s. I… I was worried about her after what happened so she’s staying with me. She thought I was just being paranoid so I bribed her with White Claw,” Janelle explained. 

Damian squinted at the can. It was unremarkable. “Are they any good?” 

Janelle made a face, shaking her head. Damian shrugged and opened the one he was holding. Apparently it was supposed to taste like black cherry, but to his palate, it was metallic and bland. For reasons unknown to him, he took another sip.

“So,” Janelle began. “Third-wheeling? You wanna talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Damian growled. “I told Jon he could bring Sky over the apartment sometimes because I thought it would be… a nice gesture on my part. And because I suppose I missed him when he went over to Sky’s. But it’s awful because he brings Sky over and they— they have no shame, they flirt and they kiss all the time. I hate it.” He tipped the can back again. Talking to Janelle was coming easy. It wasn’t like Grayson or Drake. He didn’t have to worry what she thought. He didn’t think she would try inanely to fix it for him. Any advice she would offer would be surface-level because there would be no way for her to know the true depth and breadth of his and Jon’s relationship. She was a near stranger and his relationship with her thus far consisted mostly of drinking (bad) alcohol and complaining. He was okay with that. This felt normal. 

“Hey, cheers to that,” Janelle sighed. “Third-wheeling Fi is the worst.” 

“It’s worse because  _ I’m _ jealous,” Damian said. It was his first time admitting that out loud. It was alright since Janelle had no way of knowing that. 

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re not the only one, dude,” Janelle muttered. 

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You’re jealous?”

Janelle groaned and ground the heels of her palms against her eyes. She nodded, not looking up. “It’s stupid.” 

“Agreed,” Damian said. “It is stupid.” 

_ “We’re _ stupid,” Janelle said with a huff.

“Speak for yourself.” Damian took yet another drink from the can, more for something to do than for the drink. “But… again, agreed. We’re stupid.”

“It’s just—” Janelle started. “It’s just she’s so frustrating sometimes. She says all this stupid shit all the time but I love it for some reason. And she’s so reckless, I’m probably going to die of high blood pressure one of these days. And she’s kind of mean and kind of petty, but  _ ugh _ I  _ really _ like her. I mean, I should be grateful to just, like, be in her presence, right? She’s my best friend and I should be happy with that. I should be happy with that, right?” She lifted her head, her dark eyes boring into Damian beseechingly. 

Damian pretended to read the White Claw label to hide his uncertainty. “I am not the person to ask that.” 

“Well what about you? Are you happy with just being friends with Jon?”

‘Just friends’ is not a phrase he would use to describe the bond between himself and Jon. They were partners. They had a brotherhood. He’d never desired anything more from their relationship (due in no small part to the fact he hadn’t considered anything more their relationship  _ could  _ be) _. _ Of course he was  _ happy _ with his and Jon’s relationship. It was one of the things in his life that made him happiest. Perhaps he was not the best at showing it all the time, and certainly never saying it, but he… he’d loved Jon for a long time. ‘Just friends’ was facile. 

“Of course I’m happy.” He meant it to sound certain, but it came out decidedly defensive. 

Janelle rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’m  _ happy _ to be friends with Fi. I’m glad for it. But are you satisfied? Aren’t you sad when you feel like she— he is with other people and ignoring you?”

Damian shrugged. 

“Whatever.” Janelle crossed her arms. “That’s how I feel. Fi’s gorgeous so she gets a lot of attention. And I think she feels bad for me that I’m ‘chronically single’ so she drags me out to places and gets some guy and if she remembers, tries to get me his friend. It’s a double whammy of her being with someone else and the reminder that I’m… forgettable.” 

“Jon doesn’t forget about me,” Damian commented.    
“Lucky you.” 

“...Sorry,” he grunted. 

“Forgiven. I just want to kiss her. And I want to go out with her and for her to pay attention to  _ me _ . I want her to like me.” Janelle sighed again. 

Damian passed her the White Claw. “Here.”

A smile played at the corner of Janelle’s mouth. “You know this is only like 5% booze right?” 

“If you want to talk feelings stone cold sober, be my guest.”

Janelle grabbed the can. 

While she sipped, Damian thought. He did want to kiss Jon and all that. Once he’d realized it, it was easy to identify. It happened whenever Jon casually mentioned that he loved him or did something particularly endearing. To Damian it felt like a roiling discomfort that buzzed through him like an adrenaline rush with no outlet. It was some mix of affection and desire. It often left him…

“Unsatisfied. I am unsatisfied,” Damian said. “I didn’t used to be. But I am now. And I continue to be.” 

Janelle set the can down. She tucked a few curls behind her ear, but they immediately fell into place again. 

“I could use a distraction,” she said. 

“Me too.” Far be it for him to wish crime on a city, but he did miss having something to do besides talking about crushes with strangers. 

She cleared her throat. “I was thinking that maybe…. We could distract each other.” 

Damian tilted his head. “What do you mean?” 

Janelle fidgeted. “I’m asking if you want to hook up.” 

“Oh.” This was not going where he expected it to. With this and Drake’s hypothesis, Damian wasn’t sure his detective ego could take another hit. 

Janelle moved to stand in front of him. She was a few inches shorter than him, but she tilted her chin up and met his gaze boldly. 

“You can say no and we can just keep talking, if you want. But I thought since neither of us are actually gonna get what we want… might as well?” 

“Sound logic.” He rested his hands at the curve of her waist and she looked relieved. “But we don’t know each other that well.”

Janelle smiled. “That’s the best part, Dami.” She patted his bicep and then let her hand linger for an appreciative squeeze. “Nice.” 

For a moment neither of them moved. 

“This is probably stupid,” Janelle chuckled nervously. “Um. Couch?” 

“Most certainly stupid,” Damian agreed and let Janelle pull him away. 

The sound of a key turning in the lock had them both sitting bolt upright. Damian instinctively searched his belt for a birdarang and came up empty. 

_ “Shit,” _ Janelle hissed, yanking her shirt back on before the door swung open. “Fi, I—”

Fiona entered the tiny house and blinked at them. Shock, confusion, and then anger spread over her features. “What the hell, Janelle?!” 

“Fi, I’m sorry, this isn’t, um—” Janelle stammered, her voice becoming choked up. 

“I  _ told _ you!” Fiona yelled. “I  _ told _ you that  _ I  _ wanted to be Dami’s rebound!” 

Damian blinked, feeling somewhat objectified. 

Janelle had managed to disentangle herself and was making her way towards her friend. “You can go with literally  _ any _ guy you like! Why can’t I sometimes have what I want?” 

Fiona stomped her foot. “Because he’s really hot and he saved  _ me _ , so that means  _ I  _ have dibs when he needs a distraction from his unrequited gay crush!” 

“Shut up! Okay? Just shut up!” Janelle raised her voice. “You're so selfish sometimes Fi. And I decided I wanted to be selfish too! Because every time we go out it’s about getting  _ you _ laid and you just— forget about me! And it hurts! So, yeah, I ignored your dibs.” 

Fiona’s glare turned murderous. “It’s not my fault you never go for any of the guys we meet! You can’t just ignore dibs!”

“Well maybe my standards are higher than all the guys we meet.” Janelle’s voice had gone soft, almost shy again. Damian recognized the pining compliment for what it was, but Fiona wouldn’t be able to. He glanced around for his shirt. Janelle had pulled it off him rather enthusiastically, so it could be anywhere. 

“So are  _ mine,” _ Fiona insisted. “But I’ve settled plenty of times! Dami is  _ two _ out of  _ three _ for tall, dark, and handsome!”

“I’m not fighting with you over Damian,” Janelle said. “I’m… trying to get your attention.” 

He began to consider driving home shirtless. 

“Well, congrats, Jan, you have it. For the next 30 seconds before I turn around and walk back out that door,” Fiona sniffed. “30. 29…” 

Janelle’s expression fell. “Fi, I’m really sorry. I was being stupid—”

“And horny,” Fiona added pointedly. 

“Yes, and horny,” Janelle agreed. “But I was upset since I feel like you’ve been ignoring me and what I want and taking advantage of my kindness—” 

“Taking advantage?!” Fiona repeated. “So now I’m ‘taking advantage’ of the kindness you’ve been shoving down my throat? I’m ignoring what you want by spending the week at your house like  _ you  _ wanted? I know you think I’m a stupid basket case, two-cent slut who needs to be  _ babysat, _ but you know what? I don’t need you to ‘save’ me because you think my standards are too low. I don’t need to sit here and let you pat yourself on the back for helping ‘poor ol’ Fi.’ I know I’m a mess and I don’t need you shoving it in my face and snatching up a guy because you think he’s too good for me!”

Janelle shook her head frantically, curls flying. “Fi, no! I don’t— that’s not— I don’t think that!”

Fi was already storming towards the door. “3, 2, 1, 0.” 

Janelle buried her face in her hands. The cabinets were still rattling from the slamming door. “I’m so bad at this,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Damian agreed. 

Janelle looked up, blinking back tears. “I just. I wanted to forget. I just wanted to get her attention.” 

Damian sighed and opened his arms. He was already feeling somewhat used, might as well complete his role. Janelle tucked herself against him gratefully. 

He’d find his shirt later.

Audrey was waiting at the door when he came in.

Jon emerged from his room. “How were things with Janelle?”

“Well, her roommate came home. That was awkward.” Damian shrugged, stooping to run his hand over Audrey’s flank. 

“Oh,” Jon said. He cleared his throat. “Oh. Um. Are you and Janelle…together?” 

“Not in any official capacity, no,” he said sharply, irritation at him from earlier still simmering. It evaporated instantly at Jon’s hurt expression. He backtracked, feeling the need to defend himself. “No, we’re not together. She just needed a distraction. Needed a friend. I was being a friend.” 

“No offense, D, but sticking your _ dick into somebody _ isn’t exactly ‘being a friend!’” Jon snapped. He froze, as if realizing what he’d just said. Blush rose to his cheeks and he covered his face groaning. “Please forget I said that.” 

Under normal circumstances, Damian would have wasted no time jeering, asking if he kissed his mother with that mouth, commenting how college had corrupted the sweet, innocent Superboy, but as it was, he was busy forcing down blush of his own. At Jon’s comment his mind had supplied no shortage of distracting thoughts of… ‘being a friend’ with Jon. This was a dangerous new development and he needed to get in  _ control _ of himself. 

He cleared his throat. “Said what?” He was proud of how steady his voice came out. His training was not letting him down entirely. 

“That sticking your— oh! Oh, I get it. You were forgetting I said…” Jon trailed off. “Ahem. Yeah. Starting over.” He took a breath. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to hook up with random girls.” 

“She’s not a random girl, I consider her a friend,” Damian said. 

“So you hook up with friends now?” Jon asked wryly. 

This sent Damian’s thoughts back into the ‘danger zone,’ but he ignored them. This was unlike Jon. Why did he care? Only a matter of months ago he had been enthusing about college flings. 

“We didn’t hook up.” He didn’t mention that that’s where things had been heading. 

Jon looked taken aback. “You didn’t?”

Damian shook his head. 

“Oh.” Jon looked contemplative. “Okay, then.” 

Damian wasn’t sure how to take that. It would be hypocritical of Jon to insist that Damian wasn’t allowed to have other relationships. Perhaps, he thought, Jon was feeling the same twinge of worry that Damian felt when he thought about Sky taking his place in Jon’s life. After all, Damian hadn’t done much dating in his teens, it made sense that the idea of anyone else coming into their lives in a significant way would require some adjustment. Jon was worried. 

Damian’s chest felt warm. Jon was an idiot if he thought he was anything other than the person closest to him. Jon was the person he wanted by his side, both in and out of capes. Considering their recent interactions, it would make sense if Jon was worried their relationship was changing for the worse. Fiona and Janelle’s fight was fresh in his mind. Maybe it was time Damian did something to remind him where he stood. 

“Do you want to go flying?” 

“Flying?” Jon repeated, eyes going round. “For patrol or… for fun?” 

“No reason it can’t be both,” Damian said. 

“Yes!” Jon cheered, already dashing towards his room to retrieve his costume. “Where to?” 

Damian smirked to himself as he went about donning his Robin attire. He was a great friend. He didn’t have anywhere in mind, since he was just trying to make Jon happy. “You decide.” 

He paused lacing up a knee-high boot when he noticed Jon had stopped moving and was staring at him. “What?”

“You’re letting  _ me _ decide?” Jon asked, incredulous.

“Yes, that’s what I  _ said.” _ Damian rolled his eyes. 

Jon gasped. “Who  _ are _ you and what have you done with my best friend?” 

“Why are you acting like an idiot?” Damian asked in lieu of a response.

“Because you _ never _ let me decide where we’re going!” Jon had started floating giddily. 

Damian scoffed. “That’s not true. I’ve let you decide before.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jon said. “Well, okay, maybe a  _ few _ times but never when you’re pissy— uh, shit, I mean—WAIT!” Jon covered his face with his hands. “I can never go home like this. My mom would blame you for being a bad influence.” 

Damian smirked, feeling more like himself than he had in a while. “College has corrupted the sweet, innocent Superboy.”

Jon gave him a friendly shove.  _ “You’ve _ corrupted the ‘sweet, innocent Superboy.’”

Damian hoped Jon wasn’t listening to his heartbeat. 

“I can show you the world!” Jon sang. “Shining, shimmering, splendid!”

“If you call me ‘princess,’ I will take us both down,” Damian threatened. 

Jon, unfazed, skipped to Jasmine’s part in falsetto. “A whole new world! A dazzling place I never knew! But when I’m way up here, it’s crystal clear…” 

“I’ve changed my mind, just drop me,” Damian said. 

Jon laughed. “Aw, don’t be grumpy…  _ ‘princess.’” _

“Bye,” Damian said and rolled himself out of Jon’s hold (princess carry was more comfortable for longer flights, which had prompted Jon’s singing in the first place). Jon let him fall through the air, giving him a wave as he dropped. 

Despite his stomach lurching at the sudden plumet, Damian maintained his glare and crossed arms. Jon didn’t let him fall far before darting after him, gripping his upper arms and slowing their descent. When a mischievous grin stretched across his face, Damian knew nothing good was coming. Jon pulled him close and together they launched skyward. 

The look up pure joy painted clearly on his features made the embarrassment worth it. The moon, full and shining, reflected in Jon’s eyes and made them appear to be glowing. His dark hair whipped around his face as they flew and when he looked down at him, Damian swore his heart stopped. He’d seen Jon tens of thousands of times, but this time he realized who he was looking at. Jon had grown up. This wasn’t the round-faced half-baked half Kryptonian he’d known for so long. His jaw had grown stronger, squarer, his cheekbones more pronounced but maintaining a charming taper he inherited from his mother. He was genuinely beautiful and Damian’s fingers itched to sketch it, to immortalize this moment in charcoal. 

Then Jon dropped him.

Typical. 

They were far up in the air, and he had no doubts that Jon would catch him soon, so he just enjoyed the sights. Jon refused to tell him where he was taking them, though Damian suspected that was mostly because Jon didn’t know himself. They were over a gently sloping mountain range. Far below, a valley lake reflected the sky like a mirror. The trees, coated in mist from the day’s weather, glittered like stars in the light of the clear night. 

Jon blocked his view, flying belly-up and coming up beneath him. He tucked his hands under Damian’s armpits to secure him and Damian braced his hands against Jon’s chest. 

“I’ve concluded that I trust you far too much,” Damian told him. 

“But it’s good training, eh, Robbie?” Jon asked. “For if I ever drop you for real during a mission.” 

“I suppose it’s a good reminder that I should avoid letting you fly us,” Damian smirked down at Jon. 

Jon beamed up at him. “So you’re saying I should enjoy this while it lasts?” 

“Hey,  _ hey _ —” Damian protested as Jon took them into a spin. He gripped his fists into Jon’s uniform. Even though he knew Jon wouldn’t let him go, he instinctively tried to hold his own control over the situation. 

The stars and moon blurred into bright streaks as they spun. The wind rushing in his ears carried Jon’s laughter to him. He smiled despite himself. Jon’s grasp moved down his arms until he was holding him by the wrists which he tugged at until Damian let go of his shirtfront. Reluctantly, Damian let his fingers uncurl and drifted farther away from Jon, tethered to him only by Jon’s hands in his. 

“Now it’s like you’re flying!” Jon cheered. 

“It’s like I’m being towed through the air by a massive idiot.” Damian’s words were belied by the growing smile he didn’t even attempt to hide. 

The moon had crept across the sky by the time Jon finally landed them on a flat rock overhanging the lake. 

Jon, hands on his hips, surveyed the clearing. “This would be a perfect picnic spot.” 

Damian sniffed, nose running from the chill and the flight. His stomach growled. “If you had planned, we could have brought food.”

“Plan, shmlan, I’ll be right back!” Jon vanished. 

Left alone, Damian took a moment to breathe in the crisp air. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He would never admit it, but flying could be fun. And more than that, watching Jon grin and laugh and joke and fly, alternating between holding him close to gain height or speed and letting Damian fall beside him on his own, had gotten his heart beating hard. Once he’d noticed how beautiful Jon really was it was hard to  _ stop _ noticing. It was hard to stop noticing how easy it would have been to kiss him. It was hard to stop noticing how much he wanted to. 

What was he doing? There was no way any of this could be construed as an attempt to get over Jon and this certainly wasn’t helping him control his feelings. He could have cheered him up in any way that didn’t involve the intimacy of flying. This? This was gratuitous and selfish. 

Damian kicked a stone into the lake below. He was watching the ripples distort the reflection of the moon when a bag was shoved in his face. 

Jon was floating in front of him. “I got you a veggie burger. And a milkshake!” 

Damian accepted the food. “Veggie burger. Way to wine and dine.”

“Well  _ I’m _ sorry, did I ruin your romantic evening?” Jon teased, unaware of how close to the truth he actually was. “Next time we have a picnic, you can be in charge of the food. Bring good ol’ Alfred out here to serve us hors d'oeuvres.”

Damian slurped his milkshake obnoxiously in lieu of response.

Jon dug into his own burger and they sat in relative silence. Damian pretended not to notice Jon stealing his fries. It was like old times. Simpler times. Times before Damian couldn’t look at Jon without being bombarded by the desire to kiss him. 

“This reminds me of when we were kids,” Jon said, as if reading his mind. “I used to think you were the coolest person ever.”

Damian snorted. “You certainly didn’t act like it.” 

“Well, I also thought you were the most stuck up, irritating person ever, so it pretty much balanced out.” Jon stretched himself out and laid back against the rocks. After a moment, Damian joined him. Together, they stared up at the few drifting clouds. “You know, we’re not kids anymore.” 

Damian rolled his head to glance at him. “No, indeed.” 

Jon hummed. “I was just thinking it would feel different. You know, being an adult. Being full fledged heroes of our own.” Jon rolled his head to face him, wearing a soft smile that made his heart flutter. “I always knew you’d be here though.” 

“Yeah?” Damian asked. It came out quietly. Jon’s eyes flicked between his, making Damian aware of how close they were. 

Jon’s reply was hardly louder than a whisper. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said again louder, glancing away. “I knew that we were gonna be best friends and partners, for, like… ever. And anyways, there was no way you were getting rid of me.” 

“I could have,” Damian said. “If I’d wanted to. I have Kryptonite.” 

Jon turned towards him again to grin. “Good thing you didn’t want to then.” 

“Yes,” Damian agreed. His heart was pounding. “Good thing.”

Jon was so close. Damian could feel heat emanating off of him and resisted the urge to scoot closer. In the moonlight, he appeared grayscale except for the stunning blue of his eyes. They bored into him with an intensity that made him shiver. What if he told him now? What if he told Jon how he felt, how much he meant to him? If he asked Jon to leave Sky? If he asked Jon to love him? In the surrealness of the moment he almost believed that he would. 

Almost. 

Damian sat up. “We should go home.” He didn’t look at Jon, didn’t want to see his expression (didn’t want to risk what he’d do if he saw Jon’s wide eyes fixed on him right now). 

“Alright,” Jon agreed. 

The flight home was silent.

Damian felt like he was drowning. What he’d thought to be a shallow crush turned out to be an ocean abyss and the riptide was dragging him deeper. 

_ Journal Entry: _

_ Fuck. _

He woke up to a flood of texts from Janelle. 

_ ‘I’m really worried about Fi’ _

_ ‘It’s been 3 days!’  _

_ ‘I haven’t heard a thing from her’ _

_ ‘Not even when I asked her to say something just let me know she was still alive’ _

_ ‘I told her I would file a missing person report and still no reply’ _

_ ‘Except i don’t know how to file a missing persons report’ _

_ ‘Help?’ _

Damian groaned, rubbing at his face. Janelle was not handling the fallout of her fight with Fiona well. He supposed he could help convince her that there was nothing to worry about or at least talk her out of filing a missing persons report for a friend giving her the silent treatment. 

Jon was in the kitchen cradling Audrey against his chest with one hand and munching on Pop-Tarts with the other. 

“Hey, D,” he greeted with his mouth full. 

Damian swiped one of Jon’s Pop-Tarts. “I’m going over to Janelle’s today.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Gonna ‘be a friend’ again?” Jon waggled his eyebrows. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m going to convince her not to file a missing persons report over her best friend ignoring her.” 

“Pfft,” Jon laughed. “Imagine if I did that every time you ignored me.” 

“I don’t ignore you,” Damian said, panic rising in his chest. He didn’t ignore Jon. Did Jon think he ignored him? Was he harboring the same resentment that Fiona and Janelle got into a fight over? 

“Uhh, yeah you do?!” Jon said. “Like whenever you’re obsessed with a mission, or when you’re writing or drawing, or when I tell you about my day, or when I ask you questions you don’t want to answer, or when you’re hanging out with  _ Janelle _ —”

Damian’s eyebrows knit. “I don’t… ignore you.” It was true, he often became fixated on things that weren’t Jon, but Jon was always a presence in his life, one he’d choose over anything else. He opened his mouth. To say what, he didn’t know. To tell Jon how much he meant to him? To ask if he was upset? But he was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Jon quickly swiped crumbs away from his mouth and let Audrey hop to the ground. “That’s Sky! He’s walking me to class today!” he announced. 

“That’s disgusting,” Damian said. 

“It’s  _ gentlemanly,” _ Jon corrected. He opened the door, shouldering his bookbag. 

“Hey, babe!” Sky smiled and pulled Jon into a hug. 

Damian glared at Sky. Sky glared back. It was much more satisfying now that his glares were reciprocated rather than dismissed; he enjoyed being perceived as the threat he was. 

Damian schooled his expression to aloof disdain and pointed disinterest when Jon turned to face him. 

“Have fun with Janelle!” he called, and closed the door behind him. 

“Eat shit,” Damian muttered, aware Jon could still hear him. To Audrey, he said, “Those are bad words. Don’t repeat them.” She rubbed against his leg, he took that as agreement. 

“You should really wear a helmet,” Janelle commented when she greeted him. 

“I like to live on the edge,” he replied, following her inside. 

“I’m just saying, motorcycle accident is a dumb way to die. White Claw?” she offered. “Since Fiona isn’t here, nobody’s been drinking them.” 

He screwed up his nose. “No, one was more than enough.” 

“Tea, then?” Janelle asked. 

Damian nodded. 

Janelle set some water to boil. “So I was googling how to file a missing persons report and I guess I need to start by calling the police—”

“Let’s start by figuring out if you  _ should _ file the report,” he cut her off. 

“I know I have to,” Janelle said. 

“Why’s that?” Damian leaned against the unsteady countertop. 

“I told you I asked her to just let me know she was alive and she didn’t respond, even when I said I would file the report,” Janelle said. 

“How do you know she’s not just ignoring you? Or perhaps she hasn’t checked her phone,” Damian reasoned. 

She shook her head. “Fi wouldn’t do that.”

Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t be taken well. “As touching as your faith in Fiona is, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume she’s not above ignoring you flat out.” 

“You’re wrong.” Janelle turned away, busying herself with scooping loose tea. “Fi wouldn’t ignore me asking if she was still alive. And even if she did, she wouldn’t ignore me reporting her to the police. She would do anything to stop me from doing that if she could.”

Damian shrugged. “Maybe she was calling your bluff.” 

She sighed. “No. No, that’s… look.” She turned to face him. “When I met Fi, she was in a really dark place. She was in with an  _ awful _ crowd and doing  _ awful _ things. She has a lot of legit stuff and people to be afraid of. She’ll avoid any interaction with cops she can. She knows the significance of ‘let me know you’re still alive.’ We fight sometimes, ‘cause she’s not an easy person to get along with, so I  _ know _ she wouldn’t ignore that. She never has before. And Dami, don’t get me wrong, you’re hot, but ‘fighting over you’ wouldn’t be enough for her to ignore the police looking for her.” 

He considered all of this. Janelle’s concern was starting to make more sense if this was truly unprecedented. He wasn’t ready to hand this over the police just yet though. “If you know she would hate police looking for her, why send them after her?”

Janelle shrugged, hopelessly. “I don’t know what else to do.” Her voice was thick with emotion. 

“Alright,” Damian said, making up his mind. “Why don’t we go look for her ourselves?” 

Janelle’s head shot up so fast, her short curls fell in front of her face. She pushed them away impatiently. “What?” 

“You know, check out her usual haunts? We’ll probably do a better job than police anyhow.” Damian made his way towards the door. “Where’s her place?”

Janelle looked around helplessly. “Wait, what about the tea?” 

He marched over, and turned off the stove. “The tea can wait.” 

“I’ve already been to her place!” Janelle protested when he began to guide her away. “She’s not there, or at least she won’t answer the door.”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll break in.” 

“What?!” Janelle dug her heels into the ground. “No! We can’t do that! Are you crazy? What the hell?” 

He was amused by her distress. “It’s not grand larceny, it’s just a little breaking and entering.” 

“Just a little…No!” she repeated. “What if the police  _ do _ get involved? We could be destroying evidence! Or worse,  _ we  _ could get in trouble!” After a moment, she added. “And why are you talking like you’ve done this before?”

“I lead a double life,” he answered flatly. He swung a leg over his bike. 

“Somehow, I believe you.” Janelle hugged her arms around herself, eyeing the motorcycle skeptically. “Do you actually lead a double life?” 

“If I answered that, I’d have to kill you,” he responded sarcastically. “Are you getting on?” 

“I don’t have a helmet,” Janelle said. 

“Hold on tight, then.” He shrugged. 

“Oh my god,” she muttered, sliding on behind him. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Please don’t crash.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He revved the engine, just because he could. He snickered at Janelle’s muttered  _ ‘shit shit shit shit,’ _ as they took off. 

He suspected they would find evidence of Fiona passing the past few days with random guys and it would be case closed, but the circumstances piqued his interest. Had Fiona perhaps returned to her life pre-Janelle? 

“This is it,” Janelle told him shakily when he pulled up to some run-down dorms. 

“Damn,” he said, eyeing the questionable-looking window units. “No wonder she spends so much time at your place. Which one is hers?”

“Fourth floor,” Janelle said. “The window that says ‘WAP’ in sticky notes.” 

“Naturally,” he scoffed. He gave the railing of the fire escape an experimental jiggle. It gave a rusty noise of protest, but otherwise seemed trustworthy. He pulled himself up. “Are you coming?” 

“I’m rapidly approaching my daily quota for doing stupid things,” she said. She climbed up next to him. “You’re a bad influence.”

“So I’ve been informed.” He had no trouble displacing the window unit and entering the apartment. “That wasn’t even hard. Does this building have  _ any _ security?” 

“Shh,” Janelle hushed him. “I don’t want to be caught here.” 

He shook his head but obliged. The apartment did indeed seem to be unoccupied. Empty cans and rubbish littered most flat surfaces, but the air was still and stale. He checked the fridge. There were some uneaten leftovers and an apple growing mold. It was difficult to say if that was indicative of anything unusual. 

“She didn’t come back here after leaving my house,” Janelle said from behind him.

He turned. “How can you tell?”

Janelle held up a red leather jacket. “This. She left it here that day and was complaining about it the whole time. She never leaves without it when she can help it.”

“So she hasn’t been back here to retrieve it,” he concluded. 

“And so I was right to be worried,” she said smugly. 

Damian wasn’t as convinced. “I’m still not sure. She could be staying with someone else.”

Janelle looked frustrated. “Well what else are we supposed to do?”

“Check where she normally hangs out. Where does she normally hang out?”

Janelle shrugged. “Clubs. Bars. Concerts. But that’s all at night. She’d be in class right now. And she’s not there. I asked a friend.” 

“Maybe she’s day-drinking,” Damian suggested. “Or is back with the ‘awful’ crowd.”

“Oh!” Janelle said. “Oh my god, I know where she might be.” 

After replacing the window unit (more securely this time), they were back on the road. 

“Nelly!” A large lady behind the bar exclaimed as soon as they walked in. The seedy establishment was almost empty, only a few older men nursing drinks and presumably a group of workers on a break. “Long time no see!”

“Hi, Satie.” Janelle’s voice was flat. “We’re looking for Fi.” 

“Of course you are,” the lady, Satie, laughed. “Haven’t seen  _ that  _ bitch in a few days. And a good thing too. She was in a  _ mood _ the other night. We were all relieved when she finally found someone who’d put up with her enough to take her out of here. But haven’t seen her back. Why? She gone scarce on you again?”

“Sort of,” Janelle answered. “Is—” she glanced uncomfortable at Damian. She leaned across the bar to mutter. “Is anyone  _ after _ her?” 

Satie laughed again. “Aww, Nelly, you’re too cute for all this. Just find someone normal to like, why don’t you?”

Her eyes flashed stubbornly. “So someone is after her. She’s in trouble.”

Damian watched as unobtrusively as he could. Something much deeper was at play and he itched to get his hands on this as Robin. 

“Not at all,” Satie said. “She’s been clean as far as I can tell— good job with that, I  _ never  _ thought I’d see the day—”   
“It was all Fi,” Janelle interrupted. “I didn’t do anything.”

“So cute,” Satie repeated. “Nobody’s after her, baby.”

Janelle bit her lip and turned around. She grabbed Damian’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

“You’re just going to leave without introducing me to handsome over here?” Satie simpered. 

Janelle set her jaw. “This is Dami, he’s a friend, he’s helping me find Fi. Leave him alone, he’s definitely not interested in being pimped out.”

“Nelly, Nelly, you always assume the worst,” Satie tsked. 

“He’s not interested in you either,” she said. To Damian she muttered. “We’re leaving.” 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. 

“That was deeply unpleasant,” he commented. 

Janelle shuttered. “Like I said,  _ awful _ people. Fi brought me here way back when we first met. I never thought I’d be back.”

“But Fiona’s been back.” 

“Yeah.”

Damian thought for a moment. “You asked if someone was after her. Is she—”   
“She was never a huge criminal, or anything,” Janelle said quickly. “She was just crime-adjacent and tended to owe people money.” 

“Crime-adjacent,” Damian repeated, smiling. 

“Shut up,” Janelle said. “I’m just worried about her. What else can we do?”

“We have a lead,” he said. “She was last seen here. She left with somebody. That’s a lot to go on.”

“So we shouldn’t tell the police?” she asked. 

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You want to call the police on your ‘crime-adjacent’ friend?” 

“No, I just think they’ll be better at finding her than us.”

“How optimistic,” he deadpanned. 

“We can’t do it ourselves!” Janelle was starting to sound hysterical. 

“No,” Damian said. “But we might not have to. I’m from Gotham, I know how not to rely on police.”

Janelle’s eyes widened. “Wait. You’re from Gotham? Damian… from Gotham? You’re not… are you—”

“If you’re asking if I’m Damian Wayne, yes, I am.”

“Like…  _ the _ Damian Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in… the  _ billionaire?” _ she stammered. 

“Yes.” There was a reason he didn’t want to have this conversation. 

“Holy  _ shit!” _ Janelle exclaimed. “You’re Damian Wayne.” She gasped. “I almost slept with Damian Wayne. Oh my god.” 

“Shut up,” he said. 

She shook her head. “No! This is a big deal for me!” 

“What I was  _ saying,” _ he continued, “is that in Gotham we have a different method of justice. And I happen to know that I’m not the only one from home who’s in the area.”

Janelle’s eyes went impossibly wider. “Do you… do you  _ know Batman?” _

“Just because I’m from Gotham doesn’t mean I know Batman,” he groaned.  _ “Robin _ has been spotted on patrols throughout the nearby area. He might already be on the case. The best thing  _ we  _ can do is gather all the information on the case we can.” 

Janelle nodded earnestly. “Do you really think he’s already on the case?”

Damian turned away so she couldn’t see his ill-advised smirk. “I’m certain of it.”

He nearly jumped (nearly) when he entered the apartment to find Jon waiting by the door. 

“You’re back late,” Jon commented. 

“You’re up late,” Damian retorted. 

“I was worried about you,” he admitted, careless of how the sappiness made Damian want to squirm. 

“You didn’t need to be,” he said. “I told you I was with Janelle.”

“Until 3am?” Jon raised an eyebrow. 

Damian shrugged. “We were busy.” 

Jon’s mouth twisted. “Yeah? You two looked close earlier.”

“What do you mean ‘looked?’” Damian asked. 

“I saw you. On campus,” Jon explained. “Riding your motorcycle.” 

Damian nodded. “We were investigating her missing best friend’s dorm.” 

“And then went back to her place and investigated each other, I bet,” Jon muttered.

“We left and investigated areas where Fiona commonly spends her time.” Damian raised an eyebrow quizzically at Jon. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea that I’m sleeping with Janelle?” 

“I’m not ‘obsessed!’” Jon snapped, crossing his arms. “It’s just— you so obviously  _ are _ or  _ want _ to be and I wish you would stop lying to me about it!” 

His memory of Janelle and Fiona’s fight surfaced. He shook his head. “I’m not. Jon, I have not slept with Janelle, nor do I want to. I am not in a relationship with her.” 

Jon turned away. “Oh yeah? And that’s why you’re staying at her place until  _ 3am?” _

“We were putting a case together. For Robin,” Damian explained. “And Superboy.” 

Jon glanced at him over his shoulder. “A case?” he repeated. 

“Yes, a case. There seems to be something more sinister about Fiona’s radio silence than just a simple spat between friends. There’s mounting evidence that there’s been foul play.” He planted himself in front of Jon. “We have a mission.” 

Jon’s eyes still burned with anger and he was avoiding looking at Damian. “Don’t you mean  _ you _ have a mission? You sure you need me? Why not do this one with  _ Janelle?” _

Something in Damian’s chest sank. Jon was angry at him. That, in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but he usually knew  _ why _ Jon was angry at him. Jon’s anger could usually be traced back directly to Damian’s assholery and was easily pacified. Damian had actively  _ tried _ to not make Jon angry with him and now he couldn’t figure out where he went wrong. 

“Of course I can’t do this mission with Janelle. She doesn’t know I’m Robin and she’s a civilian. She’ll be our key informant on this case, but I’m not putting her on the battlefield,” Damian said. Jon’s expression remained closed off. “Besides. She’s not my partner; you are.” 

Jon heaved a sigh and his shoulders dropped. “Alright,” he said. “What’re the specs?” 

The relief Damian felt rivaled the feeling he had after diffusing a bomb. “There’s a seedy bar just out of town that Fiona has been known to frequent. That was her last known location and I have a feeling some people there have information they could be convinced to divulge.” 

Jon’s mouth quirked up. “Good cop/bad cop?”

“Or cold, hard cash.” Damian shrugged. 

“Ah, yes, the good ol’ easy way or the hard way,” Jon said. “But if it comes down to it, can I be bad cop?”

“I don’t see why not,” Damian agreed, knowing it wouldn’t come to that. 

“Yes!” Jon pumped his fist, feet lifting from the ground. “When are we leaving?” 

Damian yawned. “Tomorrow; I’m exhausted.” 

“Oh. Right.” Jon dropped to the ground. “Right.” 

There was something in his tone that made Damian think there was unfinished business, but whatever it was, it could wait until morning. 

_ Journal Entry: _

_ I am back on a case. Victim from previous mission disappeared after a fight with her friend. While not immediately concerning by itself, I was asked to help and uncovered evidence that her disappearance may be suspicious after all. The end goal is to locate the victim, referred to from now on as F, and ensure her safety. I have a lead and will be investigating shortly.  _

_ J was reluctant to help with this mission, as he was dissatisfied with the nature of my relationship with F’s friend, who is also someone I would consider my friend. After observing the fight preceding F’s disappearance, I am apprehensive about my relationship with J. I have witnessed the delicate nature of friendship when tempered with romantic jealousy. Despite my best efforts, my envy towards S regarding J has affected my relationship with J. I will try to do better.  _

Superboy set them down on the roof of the bar. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said this place was seedy,” he said. “This is just the  _ roof _ and I think I might need to throw away these shoes after this. Is that a  _ condom?” _

Robin rolled his eyes. “Where did this sudden prissiness come from, Superboy?”

“It came from me stepping on a  _ used condom.” _ Superboy’s eyes were haunted. “Am I gonna get HIV?”

“On account of your genes, I’d hope not. As long as you’re not absorbing things from the bottom of your shoe directly into your bloodstream, I think you’re safe,” Robin answered. “That does pose the question though:  _ can _ Kryptonians get STIs?”

Superboy looked slightly green. “I know this will offend your detective nature, but I mean this sincerely: I hope I never find out.” 

Robin snorted. “Then I advise keeping your hands to yourself for this mission. Let’s go in.”

Coming in through the door was not for the likes of Robin and Superboy. Your entrance makes or breaks your mission, as Grayson would say. As such, they came in through the window.

All eyes throughout the dim, smoky interior were fixed on them. Robin squared his shoulders conspicuously and led the way to the bar. He didn’t glance behind him but he hoped Superboy, for all his ‘can I be bad cop’ was wearing an appropriately intimidating expression. 

Satie was behind the bar, just as she had been when he’d been here the day before with Janelle. 

“We’re here investigating the disappearance of a girl,” Robin told her gruffly. 

She raised her over-plucked, penciled-in eyebrows. “Hun, we’ve got girls ‘disappearing’ from here all the time. Girls come here  _ to  _ disappear.”

Robin didn’t falter. “Goes by ‘Fiona,’ college age, half-shaved head, pierced eyebrow, loud mouth, no filter.” 

Satie shook her head. “That describes half the girls in here.”

“Half the girls in here go by Fiona?” Superboy piped up. Robin resisted the urge to elbow him in the stomach. 

Satie threw her head back and laughed. Just like that, the din rose again and Robin and Superboy became old news. 

“Well, aren’t  _ you _ a cutie,” Satie said, eyeing Superboy appraisingly. His cheeks colored. “I don’t make it my business to know other people’s business because then I got folks like  _ you _ all up in my business, see? You could try your luck with some of the regulars, but I’m warning you now, it’ll all be the same.”

It figured that she wouldn’t admit any connection to a potential crime. It was an unnecessary risk to her with very little reward. 

Robin reached into a pocket and subtly flashed a wad of $20s. “Could you make it your business?” 

Satie smirked. “‘Fiona,’ you say?” She said it slowly, weighing the name on her tongue as if she didn’t know exactly who they were looking for. “You know, that might ring a bell.”

“It’s gonna take more than ‘might,’” Superboy said and Robin was impressed; he’d made an appropriately timed comment to help the process of bribery and extortion.

Satie screwed up her face in a sarcastic smile. “Right, okay, I’ve seen her. Loud and bitchy?”

Robin nodded. “That matches my intel.” He passed $20 over the bar. “What do you know?”

She eagerly tucked the money away. “She’s a good kid, at least out of the kind we get. Got clean for a while, was going to school, then just the other day, she was back in and making a fuss.” She held out her hand and Robin placed another bill in it. “Finally left with someone, I dunno, around two. That was some time last week. Tuesday?” 

If this were Gotham, he would have noted the time and day as potential Two Face activity. Given that this was miles away from home in a small low-crime college city, he doubted Two Face had anything to do with it, but he did note the possibility. 

“Who’d she leave with?” Superboy asked. 

Satie arched her eyebrows at Robin. He passed her another $20. “I dunno his name, but I can tell you where he is.” 

“Please do,” Robin deadpanned. 

Satie held out her hand. Robin tamped down his irritation and handed her another bill. It was good that she was cooperating and it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. 

As she tucked the last bill away, he jerked her chin to gesture over Robin’s shoulder. “Your guy’s right behind you.” 

Together, Robin and Superboy spun around— truly, unsubtle of them. Their target was immediately apparent. The moment he noticed the heroes he stiffened like a board, eyes wide. 

“That’s the dealer from the woods,” Superboy hissed. 

Robin narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.” 

They lunged forward towards the target who, in a display of impressive agility, lept over a table and towards the door. He knocked some drunk teenagers out of the way and went free into the night. 

“Sorry!” Superboy apologized as they pushed through people in their pursuit. 

“Which way did he go?” Robin barked, scanning the rundown parking lot. 

“The woods,” Superboy said. Without hesitating, he lifted Robin by his armpits and they sped through the trees. “This leads to the nature reserve, he must have some hideout there. Or maybe that’s where he’s keeping his drugs.”

“If we’re lucky, he’ll lead us right to it.” Robin scanned the ground between the dark silhouettes of the trees. “How far ahead is he?”

“Not far,” Superboy answered. “But he’s running for his life. I’m pretty sure he recognizes us.”

“That is a fair assessment,” Robin agreed, snorting in amusement. 

Suddenly, Superboy paused. “He stopped. I think he’s hiding. Well, trying to at least.” 

“Get us in close,” Robin ordered. “We’ll ambush him from above.” 

Superboy chuckled. “Should I drop you on his head?”

“Shut up.” 

They drew in silently, hovering above 15 feet above a patch of thick shrubbery and underbrush. From here, Robin could see the nervous shifting of their target. He was scanning the woods for his pursuers, completely unaware they were right above him. Superboy carefully lowered Robin to land behind their target before floating off again. 

The target didn’t so much as glance behind himself. Robin grinned. 

“Hello, there,” he greeted, blasé. 

The target wheeled around with a shout. 

Robin twirled a birdarang conspicuously. “You weren’t hiding from me, were you?” 

The target didn’t answer, choosing instead of bolt back in the direction of the bar… only to run directly into Superboy. 

“Because if you were,” Superboy continued. “You did a pretty lousy job.”

The target’s eyes darted frantically between the two heroes. He was breathing hard. “What do you want from me?” 

Robin raised an eyebrow. “What have you got to give?”

The man tensed. “What makes you think I have anything?” 

“People with nothing to hide do not run at the first sight of us,” Robin smirked. “So. What do you have?”

“I-I-I don’t have any more roofies! I swear! I had a bunch but I sold it all so I’m out now!” the man whimpered pathetically. 

“How about a list of buyers. Do you have something like that?” Robin asked. 

The man nodded fervently. “Y-yes! Yes, I could give you that, um!” He shakily pulled out his phone. Robin snatched it. “P-pretty much all the numbers without contact names are people I sold to,” the man explained. 

Deftly, Robin sent himself the information and deleted any trace. It was a matter of moments before he tossed the man’s phone back to him. 

“What else you got?” Superboy said in a growl. “Where did you get the roofies?” 

The man smirked, apparently deciding he wasn’t in danger. “Looking for some yourself? I wouldn’t think  _ Superboy _ would have trouble getting ladies.” 

Superboy looked affronted. “I’m  _ gay.” _

“Hey, I don’t judge. And they work just as well on men.” He leered.

Superboy punched him square in his face. 

Robin fought down a grin. “Lay off, bad cop.” He patted Superboy’s shoulder. Crouching to where the man was writhing in pain, he said, “We’re looking for a college aged girl with a half-shaved head, goes by Fiona. We were led to believe you left with her from the bar on Tuesday night.” 

The man pulled his hand away from his bloody nose to look up. “Fiona? Yeah, I made it about as far as the parking lot with her. Then she maced me and ran off. No idea where she went after that.”

Robin resisted a frustrated groan. “Why did she mace you?”

The man muttered something that Robin didn’t catch. 

“Speak up,” he demanded, giving him a shake. 

“I said, I grabbed her ass!” he said. “She told me to fuck off, I didn’t, she maced me and ran away.” 

“You deserved that,” Robin noted. “She even warned you.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “But that’s all I got. No offense, but what are you doing looking for a random-ass college girl?”   
“None of your business!” Superboy said at the same time Robin said, “We were in the area, and someone asked.” 

Superboy frowned and ducked his head. “I mean, yeah. What Robin said.” 

“But you should really be more concerned about what you’re going to be doing.” Robin put his birdarang away and glanced up. “Superboy, how much would you be willing to wager there’s a warrant out for his arrest?” 

“Enough that I think it’s worth dropping him off in front of the police station.” Superboy yanked the man up. 

“Hey, no! Don’t—” he protested. 

“I’ll drop him there on my way back to base. I will see you when you get back!” And off he flew. 

Robin sighed when he watched him disappear. “I suppose I’ll be  _ walking _ home, then.” 

Jon was on the phone when Damian finally got back to the apartment. If he thought that was going to spare him from a miffed lecture, he was a fool. 

“You couldn’t have come back to get me?” Damian demanded. 

Jon put a hand over the phone’s receiver. “I’m on the phone.” 

“Tough,” he huffed. “You  _ left  _ me!” 

“You needed the exercise.” Jon stuck his tongue out at him, returning his attention to his call. “Hm? Yeah, it’s just Dami. No, it’s no big deal.”   
Damian did not  _ pout _ at the dismissal, but he did feel the childish urge to. Audrey rubbed against his shins affectionately and he scooped her up. Pressing his nose into her fur, he pretended that he wasn’t listening to Jon’s call. 

“Yeah, I know…” he was saying. Damian, frustrated, briefly considered bugging Jon’s phone so he could know both sides of his conversations. “I don’t take my phone with me normally when we’re out, I’m sorry. Hey, I’ll make it up to you!” Jon was grinning and Damian frowned. “Mhm, tomorrow works fine! I promise. ...Sure! Can’t wait! …Bye! For now.” Jon hung up. He turned to Damian. “Okay, Mr. Eavesdropper. First, I  _ am _ sorry for leaving you. I was gonna come back. I just...got distracted. Sky had been calling.” He held up his phone. 

Damian kept his gaze fixed on Audrey. “Tt. Whatever.”

Suddenly Jon’s face appeared in front of him, grinning sheepishly. “Hey, D, I’ll make it up to  _ you _ too. What do you want?”

“Nothing you can offer,” Damian scoffed.

“Come onnn,” Jon whined. “I’m begging for your forgiveness! See? I’m even kneeling.”

Damian suppressed the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Grovel more. Peasant.” 

Dramatically, Jon prostrated himself in front of Damian. “Oh, Great Damian, descendant of the Batman, I beg for thine forgiveness. Anything a lowly peasant such as myself can offer is yours.” 

“Anything?” Damian quirked an eyebrow.

Jon looked up, breaking character. “Don’t say ‘then perish.’”

“I wasn’t going to. I was going to say your forgiveness can be earned with your decapitated head,” he responded haughtily. He stroked Audrey’s fur to emphasize his evil persona.

Jon shifted to sit criss-cross. “Ooh, I should have said ‘Anything, asterisk: terms and conditions apply.’ You can have your pound of flesh, but not a drop of blood.”

Damian shrugged. “Easy enough. I’d use a red-hot blade to cauterize the wound instantly. No blood.” Then he added, “Did you even read  _ The Merchant of Venice?” _

Jon’s eyes widened. “They used a red-hot blade to decapitate people in that play? I thought it was a  _ comedy! _ You didn’t tell me about that part in school!”

The smile he’d been fighting back appeared. “No, it didn’t happen. That’s simply my proposed solution.” 

“Oh, thank god,” Jon laughed. “So, am I forgiven?”   
He was. But Damian could milk this for a little longer. “Without a sacrifice?”

Jon groaned. “What do you want?”

“Prove your loyalty to me,” Damian said. 

“Sure,” Jon agreed. “How?” 

In a moment of unbridled pettiness, Damian said, “Cancel your plans with Sky tomorrow.”

Jon’s playful expression hardened. “What? No! Damian, no. I’m not going to do that.” 

“Fine,” he said dismissively. He ignored the pit forming in his gut. “We’ll just add this to the ever-growing list of things you owe me for.” 

He hoped that Jon’s expression would lighten, accepting the out. Jon’s eyebrows were knit and Damian knew he had no such luck. 

“Damian, I  _ know  _ you still have mixed feelings about Sky and I know you’re, like, clingy, or whatever. But why do you have such a problem with me spending time with him?” Frustration was evident in Jon’s voice. He continued, “I spend plenty of time with you, but it’s like you  _ only  _ have an issue when I’m hanging out with Sky.”

Damian sighed. “I was being… petty. Forget about it. You have my permission to hang out with Sky.”

Jon crossed his arms. “Permission?”

“My blessing. Whatever.” Audrey, who had been squirming in his hands, curved her claws in and bit down on his thumb. He quickly let her down, rubbing ruefully at his hand. She bolted off. “And now we’ve upset Audrey.” 

“‘We?’” Jon repeated. “You’re the one being a petty asshole. And yes I know I said asshole.”

Damian looked up at his friend. “You’re mad at me?” He had to admit that he was taken aback by Jon’s reaction to this. He knew Damian didn’t like Sky. He knew that Damian was, in his words, ‘clingy.’ As far as Damian could tell, their interactions had been largely unremarkable. Either Jon was being unreasonable or Damian had  _ really _ messed up somewhere. 

Jon hunched his shoulder. “No… I’m not  _ really  _ mad at you. That’s not the issue.” 

“Then what is?” Damian demanded. The sooner they could figure this out, the better. 

“I don’t know,” Jon said. “It’s just like…  _ you _ get to go out with Janelle and it’s all fine but I can’t go out with Sky.”

_ Janelle? _

“What does Janelle have to do with this? And you can go out with Sky, I just said so,” Damian said.

“Yeah, but you’re not going to be  _ happy  _ about it,” Jon snorted. 

“Is that what you want?” Damian asked roughly. It was a genuine question, but he couldn’t hide his frustration. “For me to be happy about it?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “No. I don’t— that’s not— no.” He covered his face and groaned. “I don’t know.”

Damian grabbed Jon’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. “What do you want?” he asked, making an effort to be gentle. He couldn’t help but feel this conversation had reversed. 

“I don’t know,” Jon said again in resignation. “I guess just leave me alone.”

Damian ignored the immediate hurt that welled up at Jon’s words. He took a step back from him and nodded solemnly. “Alright.” 

“Just for now,” Jon elaborated. 

Some of the hurt abated. “Alright.” 

Jon turned back towards Damian when he reached the doorway of his room. “You’re my best friend. You know that, right? Me dating Sky isn’t going to change that.”   
“I know that,” Damian said. 

Jon smiled sadly. “I just need some space.”

“Okay.” 

Jon hesitated a second more. “I love you.” He said it like a question. 

It wasn’t an unusual thing for him to say. Jon was often vocally affectionate. It had been years since the first time the phrase ‘I love you’ was offered as an olive branch in their fights or arguments. Still, it was the first time he’d heard Jon say it since his realization and it made him feel like throwing up. 

Damian turned away. “Goodnight, Jon,” he said in return. 

He heard Jon’s door close. 

“And then he said ‘I need some space,’” Damian recounted. 

“Oh, baby,” Janelle cooed sympathetically through the phone. “That’s rough.”

“It is,” he confirmed. “I don’t understand what happened. I feel like I’m missing something. A crucial detail in my actions that upset him or something.” 

“Eh, from what you said, everything seemed pretty normal.”

“Those were my thoughts as well,” Damian agreed. “He’s out with Sky right now and I’m not sure if he’ll still ‘want space’ when he gets back. Until he tells me what he’s thinking, I’m stuck theorizing.”

“Do you think…?” Janelle began. 

Damian sat up. “Do I think what?”

Janelle hummed. “I’m not sure if I should say it, but… do you think maybe he figured out that you like him?”

The blood drained from his face. “Why...why would I think that?”

“It would explain why he’s suddenly making a big deal out of your jealousy, if he realized it was romantic jealousy,” she explained apologetically. “And the request for space. That might have been him letting you down easy, dude.” 

Damian shook his head wordlessly. Surely, if Jon realized Damian’s feelings, he would have said something about it; they weren’t the type to pussyfoot around each other. But then again, romance, crushes, dating were uncharted territory. And the more Damian thought about it, the more plausible the theory seemed. 

“No…” he said. “He wasn’t supposed to find out. How would he find out?”

Janelle snorted. “Gee, I dunno, maybe your hapless pining stares, or the way you smile when you talk about him, or  _ maybe, _ just putting this out there, the fact that you’re constantly ready to throw hands with any guy who so much as looks his way?” 

“But  _ I _ didn’t know I was jealous, how would he know I was jealous?” Damian demanded. A panicked buzz was making its way through his limbs. 

“He has  _ eyes,” _ Janelle said. She sighed, tone turning more sympathetic. “The guy clearly knows you super well. It’s more likely than you may think.” 

She was right. 

“He knows.” Saying it out loud made it feel real. “Then he certainly rejected my feelings.”

“Sounds like it.” Janelle’s voice was gentle. 

Damian felt empty. “So what do I do?” 

“Well first, you respect his decision—”

“Of course,” Damian cut her off. As if there was a way to change Jon’s stubborn mind. 

She continued. “Then you… uh, do normal heartbroken things? Sad movies. Sad music. Ice cream. Poor life decisions.”

Damian blinked. “I cannot begin to describe to you how unappealing that sounds. I refuse to  _ mope _ over this.” 

Janelle laughed. “Okay then, Mr. Trooper, how about a distraction?”

“If you’re propositioning me again—”

“Shut up, I’m not.” Her eye-roll was practically audible. “I mean if you want to venture into your pseudo-superhero pastime again, I’m trying to get more info on Fi. If you’re gonna be spending time not-moping, you could come help me.” 

Damian glanced at his laptop where he was running a data search on all the information from the man’s phone. Truly, Fiona would be located much faster if Janelle left him alone to be Robin about it. 

“Not right now,” he said. 

“Busy?” she asked. 

He shrugged, though she couldn’t see him. “You could say that.” 

“Very mysterious. Alright, what about tonight, huh? Still busy then?”

Damian considered. Tonight, Jon would be returning from his day out with Sky. Going over to Janelle’s would certainly give him space, and maybe she would have more useful intel. “I can do tonight.” 

“Great!” she said. “Oh, and would you like me to pretend that everything is hunky-dory and not mention anything about certain blue-eyed babes?”

He chose not to comment on her word choice. “That would be preferable, yes.” 

“Gucci. Bring dinner. You’re rich, make it nice,” she teased. 

“Bye.” He hung up.

“Oh, Dami. Are you heading out?” Jon and Sky were coming up the hall as Damian closed the apartment door behind him. 

“Janelle’s,” he answered brusquely.

“R-right.” Jon nodded. “Um. If you’re headed out, uh— Sky, did you wanna come in…?” He glanced awkwardly between Damian and Sky. 

“Actually,” Sky said, looking at Damian. “I was hoping I could have a word with Damian.” 

Jon’s eyes widened. “Okay, I’ll see you inside then?”

Sky smiled at him, nodding. “It won’t be long.” 

Jon glanced at Damian with a look that clearly said ‘behave.’ Damian shot him a look in return that said ‘don’t eavesdrop.’ 

The moment the door shut behind Jon, Sky turned to face Damian. Not for the first time, Damian felt bitter that Sky stood much taller than him. But what he lacked in height, he resolved, he could more than make up for in terms of sheer glaring. 

Sky cleared his throat and tucked his thumbs into his pockets in what Damian immediately identified as an attempt to be disarming. “So, Dami,” he began. 

“It’s ‘Damian,’” Damian growled. 

“Right, okay, Damian,” Sky corrected obligingly. The net effect made him feel like a surly child being placated, and he almost wished he hadn’t said anything. “I don’t want any trouble, but I think we both know this conversation was a long time coming.”

Crossing his arms, Damian raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

After a moment’s silence, Sky elaborated. “Jon is my boyfriend.”

Damian bristled. “I am  _ well _ aware.” 

Sky forged on. “And he is your best friend. I respect that. I’m trying to not get in the way of your friendship. I know you’re not fond of me, and I gotta be honest, you’re not my favorite person either, but Jon likes you. So I respect his decision to be friends with you.” 

Damian checked his watch, making an effort to exude as much disinterest as humanly possible. Perhaps even beyond what a normal human was capable of. “Is that all?” 

_ “No,” _ Sky said, exasperation finally creeping into his carefully calm voice. “Because you clearly have some feelings about me dating Jon—” he held up a hand to stop Damian’s protest. “It’s fine, I know. I’m not going to pretend I understand what your feelings are exactly, and frankly, I don’t actually care as long as they don’t get in the way of my relationship.”

So, Sky knew then. Damian swallowed hard. The pit of his stomach was cold and his veneer of disinterest had shattered. 

He resented the pity that filled Sky’s expression. “Look, man. Jon cares about you a lot. And I care about Jon a lot. So  _ transitively, _ I have a vested interest in what you think. For Jon’s sake, I think we should try to get along. What’s it going to take for you to be on board with that?”

Damian’s mind raced. Sky knew that he had feelings for Jon. Had Jon told him? Would he do that? For a horrible moment, he wondered if Jon had asked Sky to confront Damian like this. No, he wouldn’t do that. Of all things, Jon would not ask someone else to fight his battles. But even so, Sky knew. He was extending an olive branch to Damian for Jon’s sake. 

For Jon’s sake. 

He inhaled. He knew what he needed to do. 

“You’re right,” he said. “Jon’s decisions are his, and my feelings are my own. I do not like you and I will not like you, but for Jon, I will tolerate you.”

Sky nodded, looking pleasantly surprised. “I can live with that.” 

He held out his hand for a handshake. Damian hesitated a moment before accepting the firm grasp. 

Before he could pull away, Sky’s grip tightened. “And one last thing. You don’t own Jon. You don’t control him. And I won’t stand for you acting like you do.”

Threats? Damian could play this game. “Certainly. And if  _ you  _ hurt him, no variation on the word ‘regret’ is enough for what you will feel.”

The flash of fear in Sky’s eyes filled him with satisfaction. As he walked down the hallway, the feeling faded, buried by his growing turmoil. 

His time with Janelle passed in a blur. She certainly noticed his distraction but was kind enough not to comment on it. Unsurprisingly, she had no significant new leads on Fiona. Even the biting cold against his cheeks as he sped on his bike did nothing to quell the roiling emotions within him. 

He had admitted defeat. And it felt terrible.

He had told Janelle that he refused to mope over this, but he was beginning to doubt his ability to hold himself to that. He was surprised by how much it hurt. The last time he’d felt this kind of emotional turmoil, it was because someone was dead. This was a different pain, a hollow and heavy ache in his chest. Longing, he supposed. Yearning.  _ Pining, _ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Grayson provided.

He shook his head to clear it. This was preposterous. He was still friends with Jon. He wasn’t going to lose that. Just because he may eventually have to accept being second to someone else in Jon’s life—

“D, you’re back!” Jon cheered, forcing Damian out of his thoughts. Thankfully, it seemed that Sky was no longer in the apartment. “Did you have fun with Janelle?”

_ No. _ “We were just going over case stuff.” Damian shrugged. He felt a hint of pride over how calm and normal he was able to keep his voice. 

“Mhm,” Jon hummed. “Find anything new?”   
Damian shrugged. “Nothing terribly useful. I’ve been running data from the phone all day. I’ll start looking into people, but we have to consider the fact that Fiona escaped from our previous target; her disappearance might not have anything to do with this.” 

Jon frowned. “I’ve got a feeling that it does.”

“Maybe,” Damian said. “But I don’t want to chase a useless lead too far.”

“Right…” Jon sighed. “So… what did you and Sky talk about earlier?” His tone was casual, but Damian knew his friend well enough to hear the desperately curious undertone.

“Why are you asking me? I’m sure you asked Sky about it,” Damian snarked. “Don't you trust him?”

“I trust him to spare my feelings. I trust you to tell me the truth,” Jon said.

Damian heard the unsaid ‘even if it hurts my feelings.’ He cringed internally. He couldn’t fault Jon for the way he thought about him, but it still filled him with shame. He walked past Jon to take a seat on the couch, facing away from him. 

“We were figuring out our differences,” he grunted. “We agreed to tolerate each other, for your sake.”

Jon was silent. 

Surprised by his lack of response, Damian turned around. “What?”

“Damiiii,” Jon cooed, eyes sparkling. “That’s so sweet of you!”

“What?” he asked again and found himself being tackled into a hug. 

“You  _ do _ care!” Jon cheered. 

Damian tensed up. What was this? What happened to ‘needing space?’ Was this Jon’s strange way of assuring him they were still friends despite Damian’s feelings? Was he making fun of him? 

Confused and overwhelmed, Damian shoved Jon off of him. 

“I thought you wanted space,” he growled. 

“Oh.” Jon sounded hurt and Damian cursed himself. “Yeah, I guess, um. Goodnight, then?”

Damian, fighting the urge to curl up defensively, just shrugged. He didn’t look at Jon’s face, not wanting to see the hurt he was sure he put there again. 

_ Damn it. _ Jon’s door closed. 

If nothing else, this proved that he was right to admit defeat to Sky. Out of the two of them, Sky was not the one who could only seem to hurt Jon. 

_ Damn it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought this story was going to be about Damian and Jon, huh??? well you were FOOLED, it's about Janelle now, I guess. I just think she's neat and want good things for her. I know a lot of people don't like OCs, but it's MY fic and _I_ get to fill it with conflicts related to things nobody asked for!   
> Some of you may have noticed that I bumped the number of chapters from 2 up to 3. This always happens.   
> "I think this story is gonna be like 20k, like two chapters, maybe a little over 10K per chapter! 🤡🤡🤡" I said.  
> "No way," my sister told me. "There's no way it's going to be less than 30k."


End file.
